


What Type of Soul

by backfiredspells



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Baby Dragon, Best Friends, Camelot, Destiny, Developing Friendships, Elemental Magic, Epic Friendship, Fate, Fate & Destiny, Fate Worse Than Death, Friendship, Gen, Magic, Magic Revealed, Magic-Users, Male Friendship, Other, Platonic Soulmates, Soul Bond, Souls, The Great Dragon - Freeform, Two sides of the coin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:14:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 46
Words: 90,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23992837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/backfiredspells/pseuds/backfiredspells
Summary: My first fanfiction ever, so please be kind! This is a reveal fic where I've skipped over all of the boring set-up and have jumped right into the action. Set sometime post S4-ish, but before S5, only canon characterizations. This fic explores the "two sides of the coin" thing by mixing in a little of the lore I've made for my personal fantasy-epic about soul-magic and relationships
Comments: 25
Kudos: 47





	1. Breaking

Merlin had collapsed to the floor, tear tracks staining his face as he gasped for breath. Yet Arthur stood over him, impassively, his kingly mask determinedly in place. Only his eyes gave away his true feelings. Behind the cerulean blue burned an avid hatred, both bred and learned through bitter experience, and the far deeper burning sting of yet another betrayal. This one all the worse for how unexpected, how _wrong_ it was.

Despite everything his eyes said, despite the blubbering pile of bones on his floor, Arthur did not waver when he spoke. “Go…leave Camelot and never return, now, while my mercy holds long enough to spare your life,”

Merlin was shaking violently, sobs wracking his body. Tears were streaming down his face, blurring his vision, transforming his once-friend into an ominous red-coloured blob. Merlin shook his head, ever so slightly.

“Arthur… _please_ …”

“Enough!” shouted Arthur, gripping his gleaming sword in a trembling hand. That sword, it was the same one that had lain in wait for him, thrust into a rock in the centre of some obscure clearing in the middle of a forest. The sword Merlin had led him to. The sword Merlin had used to convince Arthur that he was worthy, _destined_ , to be king. The sword Merlin had used to make Arthur believe in himself again.

_‘Lies, all of it…absolute lies…’_

Arthur advanced on the trembling form of his manservant with the gleaming blade in his hand, not poised to strike, but held ready to move should he have need to.

“Get. Out. Of. Camelot,” said Arthur, gripping his blade with a white knuckled hand, “You do not belong here.” _‘Liar, traitor,_ sorcerer _.’_

Merlin gasped, whimpering like Arthur had just run him through with his blade. The only move Merlin made however, was to curl into a ball, as if trying to ward off physical pain. But Arthur was having none of it.

Grabbing the destroyed man by his scrubby, threadbare neckerchief, Arthur hoisted him up and threw him against the wall next to his chamber door, pining him there. Arthur was inches away from Merlin’s face as the slighter man gasped for breath. “Get. OUT! And never return here. I _never_ want to see you, _ever_ again, _sorcerer_!” Arthur opened his door, and proceeded to throw Merlin bodily from the room before slamming the door closed on him.

Arthur stood staring at the closed door, his mask of kingly fury still firmly in place for several long moments before it finally cracked, then fell away. Arthur dropped the blade in his hand from numb fingers. It clanged loudly against the stone floor, but Arthur paid it no heed. Slowly, Arthur sank down to the floor and cradled his head in his hands.

He was deaf to the world. Knew nothing beyond his own racing thoughts and the deep, sharp pain in his chest. _‘Not again. Why did it happen again? Why did_ Merlin _of all people, have to betray me, and with_ magic _no less! Why did this happen to me again?’_

* * *

Outside Arthur’s chambers, when Merlin was thrown from the room and had the door slammed closed behind him, he hit the opposite stone wall, and slid down it into a tangled mess of gangly limbs on the floor. Merlin cried openly, gasping for breath with tear-shrouded eyes, not even bothering to untangle his knotted limbs.

 _‘Get. Out…’_ Merlin could still hear Arthur’s voice. It had been cold, hard. Yes, there was anger there, but it had not been the blind rage he had honestly expected. He had expected a blind rage that burned hot and fast, yet ate quickly through it’s own fuel. Instead it was a cold rage, one tinged with reason, and was all the more frightening for it.

 _‘You do not belong here…leave and never return…_ sorcerer _’_

_‘…you do not belong here…’_

_‘I do not belong here…I don’t belong…I don’t…’_

Suddenly Merlin was on his feet, he was gasping, and shaking, his eyes still too blurry to see from the tears that would not stop. There was an itching pain that was gathering at his shoulder, digging it’s claws into his flesh. Merlin could _feel_ it claw it’s way through his skin, inching it’s way deeper into his body, towards his heart. Merlin felt his magic begin to react to the pain, a lick of comforting warmpth in his veins he had never lived without. But the second Merlin felt that warmpth begin to gather, he heard a voice speak inside his head. Cold, demanding. _‘You do not belong here…’_

Merlin gasped like a drowning man coming up for air, and pushed away that warmpth, shivers wracking his body. It was then that Merlin began to move. How he found his way through the castle without being seen, when he himself could not see, Merlin would never know. Every time Merlin felt that tell-tale warmpth gather, he would gasp and push it away, shivering from the voice in his head. _‘…you do not belong…’_

As Merlin moved, ghosting through the shadows of the lower-town in the dusk, his mind started inventing words a part of him still somehow knew his king had never said. _‘…you do not belong…sorcerer…freak…aberration…_ monster _…’_

_‘You are a monster. You should have never been allowed to exist in the first place…death is too good for you…he is an old friend who comes to greet those who were meant to be at the end of their time in this world…He will not come for you…He will never come for you…freak…aberration…monster…Emrys…’_

Somewhere in his mind, Merlin felt such a deep truth to those words, and it broke his very soul. A strangled scream, soft in the night, flew past Merlin’s lips as the ground came up to batter his abused body and mind.

That clawing pain from his shoulder had by now inched it’s way down Merlin’s arm, was crawling across his chest looking for his heart. It had even torn it’s way up his neck, and was now burrowing into his skull just behind his ear. Merlin could not even lose himself to the pain enough to scream out in the agony he felt. All that escaped his mouth was the pathetic whimpering of a dying man who was not dying.

The sound was little more than a breeze in the night. Merlin was only lucky that someone happened to be listening to that breeze.


	2. Heartrending Discoveries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: This chapters a little different from the first one. Yes, Merlin is unconscious and in pain for the entire thing. There is a reason for it. This is really the first glimpse of the meat of this story. I’ve taken the “two sides of the same coin” thing and combined it with some lore from my personal fantasy-epic that may one day get written. This is not slash though, Arthur and Merlin are completely platonic. They are soul-brothers, nothing more or less. This is me exploring what could have happened to Merlin had his soul-brother outright rejected him for who he really was. Emotional pain is one thing, but what happens when it manifests itself physically? What happens if it can literally kill you in such a terrible, terrible way? Read and find out! Pleas read and review! Thank you!

Two companions, a man and woman both dressed in fine clothes for traveling, walked through the darkening streets of the lower-town. The woman wore a strange outfit, one made so it would not hinder fast movement, but also so that it could withstand heavy wear. The man was dressed more simply, his trousers and tunic weather stained, but not yet truly worn.

The pair spoke together quietly, unconcerned with the world around them, or so it seemed as they headed in the direction of the Rising Sun where they had paid for rooms for the night. As the pair passed by the darkening alleyway between the Rising Sun and the next building, the woman, Arzela, stopped suddenly, frozen in place. The man walked on for several steps before looking back and realising that his companion had stopped. He waved at Arzela, trying to get her attention, but she was heedless of him. She gestured absently for him to keep silent, eyeing the narrow alley with a frown on her face. The faint sound of whimpers could be heard drifting out of the darkened space, if one cared enough to listen.

“Arzela!” came the man’s exasperated voice as he saw his companion move cautiously towards the alleys entrance.

“I think there’s someone here who needs help,” came the woman’s soft reply.

“That usually also means that there’s someone else around who is dangerous.”

Arzela ignored her companions half-hearted comment of dissuasion, and inched forward into the darkening space. She spied a hobbled form lying curled into a tight ball in the centre of the alley, shaking and sobbing as if the world had ended. The broken sounds of a shattered heart were louder now, but not by much.

Still staying alert for any possible danger, Arzela moved forward, cautiously approaching the quivering form of the man before her, listening to the sounds of his silent pain. _‘This man is far, far too quiet for the amount of pain he looks to be in. Something is terribly, terribly wrong here,’_ thought Arzela, _‘I would be less worried if he was screaming in his agony. At least that would be easier to deal with.’_

Arzela crouched down next to the man on the ground, noticing as she did the sharp angles of his bones visible beneath the man’s pallid skin. He looked too thin to be completely healthy.

By this time, Arzela’s companion had come up to the mouth of the alley and was peering in uncertainly. Arzela, inspecting the man before her, felt her worry for the mans wellbeing steadily increase. She could not see any real injuries on the broken man, though there were a few small scrapes. _‘So he wasn’t attacked…At least, not physically anyway,’_

By now, Arzela was concerned that the man had not reacted to her presence. He simply laid there on the ground, curled into himself, clutching at his right shoulder and sobbing his heart out. He did not seem conscious, and yet there was nothing to suggest that he wouldn’t be. Nothing, except that he was clutching at his shoulder.

Arzela frowned at the man, heart beating just a little faster. _‘Could it be?’_

Arzela carefully took hold of the man’s collar, and pulled it back to reveal his favoured shoulder. When the threadbare fabric came away, Arzela let slip a startled gasp. The man’s neck was knotted over with angry red veins of swollen flesh. The affliction only seemed to worsen under her very eyes. _‘Dear gods, it_ is _. His very soul is bleeding out on the alley floor.’_

“What is it Arzela? What’s wrong?”

Arzela did not acknowledge her companions exclamation. _‘Dear gods, you poor, poor soul.’_ The man flinched and whimpered, mind in another world entirely while Arzela tried to find a spot that was not so tender to hold him steady by.

“Tadek, come here for a moment,” Arzela’s voice was flat with controlled emotion as she spoke. Tadek moved forward cautiously, before crouching down next to her. She responded by shifting over so her companion could see the strangers bared shoulder. “Does that look to you like what I think it is?”

Tadek scrutinized Arzela’s expressionless mask for a moment before bending over to have a look. The second Tadek caught sight of the swollen marks on the man’s shoulder, he gasped, reeled back, and clapped both hands over his mouth, looking absolutely horrified. He remained like that for several long moments, Arzela simply watching and waiting, holding the poor creature before her still as he shivered violently. Lowering his hands slowly, Tadek locked eyes with Arzela. “I daresay it does,” Tadek watched the man, this stranger, before them, his face coloured over with pity. “But Arzela,…dear _gods_ …how could it be?”

“I’m afraid, my friend, that you know that answer just as well a I.”

Arzela glanced back down to the quivering man. “We have to help him. No one in Camelot could possibly know what this really is, and if he’s treated wrong…” Arzela did not finish the sentence.

Years ago now, Arzela had studied the deepest portions of the worlds natural magic. She had studied because she had been afraid, and she needed to understand. She had learned of souls, of magic, of energy, and how all three were bound together in this world. She learned that the bonds we form with others can become touched by magic. It was not even something that required either individual to posses magic themselves. It was just something that happened in the world. Something beautiful and pure. But when those bonds broke, nay when they were _shattered_ , they would destroy you along with them. A physical reaction to that was a rare thing indeed. Most people simply lost their minds, throwing away everything they once were in the process.

“Yes,…I know…but _Arzela_ …”

Arzela was brought back to reality by her companions comment. “I know what you mean…but we must help him. If we do not, he won’t last the night.” _‘In many more ways than one.’_

Still looking horribly disturbed, Tadek nodded his ascent, and walked back over to Arzela. “I’ll carry him up to my room. The inns right here anyway,”

Arzela shook her head. “Take him to my room. I have a feeling that I won’t be getting much sleep tonight anyways.”

Tadek bent down and carefully took hold of the limp form at his feet. When the strangers right arm brushed against Tadek, he cried out. Arzela’s hand shot out and held Tadek in place, who in turn stood frozen, unsure of what had happened. He had been careful not to touch the mans injured shoulder. Arzela moved forwards, taking the strangers hand as Tadek held him, and rolled up his sleeve so that it would rub against his skin as little as possible. There, running down the mans arm were more of those swollen red lines. None quite so knotted together or thick as the ones on his shoulder, but still. They were there.

“He is even worse off than I thought,” said Arzela. Shaking herself, she looked around and spotted a back door to the inn just over Tadek’s shoulder. She walked up to it and tested the door. It was unlocked. Arzela held the door open to Tadek, and handed him the key to her room. “Take him inside and get him settled as quickly as you can. Be mindful of his right side. There is no telling in this gloom how bad the swelling is,”

“Light enough candles to see by. I will go to the innkeeper to get a pitcher of fresh water and explain what I can to him. This is too serious now to _not_ involve this city’s official physician.” Tadek nodded. The man in his arms started shaking a more violently, startled cries of pain escaping him when his abused skin brushed against the man holding him. Arzela and Tadek exchanged concerned glances.

“Quickly now, go. Already he worsens.”

Tadek moved off, taking the poor man with him. Arzela closed the door and turned out of the alley. Through the main door of the inn, she stopped at the frond desk, her face sad and grim. The frazzled innkeeper scurried over to address his new customer, before recognizing Arzela as someone who already had a room. “Yes, how can I help you?” The innkeeper trailed off taking in the woman’s sad expression.

“I need a pitcher of clean, fresh water, if you have one to spare.”

“We should have one somewhere,” said the innkeeper as he bustled around, “any particular reason you need it?” Arzela was about to answer when Tadek came bursting into the main room from the upper floor, looking frantic.

“Arzela! You have to come and see – ” Tadek stopped talking when he realized he had attracted an audience. He straightened awkwardly as the curious innkeeper handed over the pitcher of water to Arzela.

Arzela eyed Tadek, taking in his frantic eyes and stiff demeanour. Without missing a beat, she seemed to understand what Tadek wanted was for her to hold her tongue, if only for the moment. “We just wanted to make some tea. I only hope my companion here has not burnt the leaves beyond the point of redemption.” The innkeeper laughed, and bustled away to attend to his other customers, which included a small group of Camelot knights in the far corner.

Tadek grabbed Arzela’s hand and led her quickly upstairs. “What is this about Tadek?”

“Not here,” he hissed, “You must see for yourself.”

Light was spilling out beneath Arzela’s door into the darkened hallway when they walked up. Tadek flung the door open and pushed Arzela inside before him, then promptly slammed it shut again behind himself, bolting it in place. Tadek than rounded on a very confused Arzela “Do you know who this is? _Do you?_ ” he demanded, pointing to the man on the bed.

Arzela frowned, then looked over to the quivering form. For a long moment she had no idea what Tadek was getting at, but then it clicked. “Is that _really_ the kings manservant?”

“Yes!” Tadek whisper-yelled the word, pacing frantically around the room.

The alley had been dark with the approaching night, so the man had not been immediately recognizable, but now that he was in the light, there was no mistaking him. Arzela was still frowning at Tadek though. “How does this change things exactly? We still must involve the city’s authorities.”

Before Tadek could answer, the servants eyes fluttered as he moaned in pain, flashing gold for half a second, the smaller objects in the room rattling. The frail young man gasped, a painful jerk tearing through his muscles making the objects stand still once again. “He’s already done that a few times…” whispered Tadek.

Arzela turned from the servant to stare at her companion, eyes suddenly wide with understanding.

“What do we do? He has _magic_ for gods sake!”

 _‘The king’s manservant has magic. Huh.’_ Arzela would have never guessed it, yet she had just seen irrefutable proof. The rattling objects, the flash of gold in the eyes. _‘The interesting thing is how controlled that outburst had been. Only small objects, and nothing at all that could be considered a weapon.’_

 _‘Suddenly Camelot’s recent triumphs over its enemies makes a whole lot more sense.’_ Clearly magic was not something new for the servant.

Arzela frowned then, puzzling over the servants reaction to the use of magic. He had gasped, as if the magic had caused him pain, which Arzela knew quite well was not the case, and had pushed it away. _‘His magic is reacting to his current state, trying to help him,’_ realized Arzela, _‘But it was likely the very reason for him ending up like this in the first place, so now he is trying to push it away. To deny the very thing which could keep him alive and heal him without any aid.’_ It was times like these, when Arzela seriously questioned the way this kingdom had been run for the past 30-odd years.

“We continue as we were, and do our best to help him. At the very least now we can understand a little more about why this has happened to him.”

“But what if he dies? What if he doesn’t last the night?” said Tadek, wringing his hands. “For that matter, what if he _lives_!? Clearly this happened to him because _someone_ found him out, and didn’t take too kindly to it.” The implication behind those words was concerning to say the least.

“If he dies, we feign ignorance of his magic, and ignorance of his identity. It is plausible enough. We are strangers only stopping here for shelter for the night. We say we found him in the alley behind the inn, already dead, and leave it at that.” said Arzela.

“And should he live, we say nothing. Thanks to your display downstairs, no one else knows we found an injured and ill man in the alley.”

“He’s not likely to be well enough to leave on his own by morning, you know that. Probably better than I.”

“Yes,” sighed Arzela, conceding the point. “And if it was _the king himself_ who found him out, he wouldn’t be able to just go home even if he was capable of it.”

“We can involve no one else in this Tadek. We can let no one else know _who_ this man is. I do not believe the king will mount a manhunt for him, so it should be reasonably easy to smuggle the poor man out of the city. Once out, we’ll send word home explaining our predicament, and asking for a healer to come out and meet us along the road to better help him. We’ll take him back to Vartee. It’s clear he cannot remain in Camelot.”

“What if he doesn’t want to come with us though?” asked Tadek quietly, looking at the struggling man. Arzela looked over at him too.

“I don’t particularly believe he will be in a position to protest,” she sighed, “But once… _if_ …he recovers, it will be his decision what he wants to do.”

Shaking herself Arzela approached the servant lying on the bed. She carefully untied the length of fabric knotted around his throat and placed it off to side. Then, with Tadek’s help, the two removed the servants shirt, barring his chest for easier inspection. He shivered and moaned on the bed sheets, curling into himself as he had been in the alley, but this time there was a more frantic tinge to the movements. The red marks were the worst on the servant’s shoulder, but they had also spread half-way down his arm, up his neck to behind his ear, and were slowly working their way across his chest. Arzela could not stop the swell of pity that welled up inside her chest at the sight. _‘His soul truly is bleeding, and for what? Magic? How terribly cruel fate can be sometimes, and most of all to those who do not deserve it.’_

“I’ll need you to hold him steady.” Tadek acknowledged the request with a tilt of his head before taking hold of the servants frail body, careful not to touch any part of him that was sore and swollen. Arzela gently ran her hands over the servants bony back, barely touching him, yet still eliciting soft whimpers of pain from the man. Arzela a Tadek looked at each other. _‘Not good, if even a simple touch pains him.’_

Arzela sighed, her heart going out to the poor man before her. Finding the correct pressure points with her hands, Arzela spoke bracing words of comfort to the servant. “I am so sorry for what this is going to feel like,” she said, “But you’ll be glad for it when it’s over.”

Arzela pressed down on the points she had sought out on the servants body. Instantly the man’s every muscle tensed, and had Tadek not been holding him steady, he would have jerked away. Arzela massaged gently but firmly into the points she was holding, the servant whimpering and gasping in pain. She sought out a new point with the one hand while she continued to massage pressure into another with her other hand. The man beneath her shivered uncontrollably, hot tears leaking from eyes that had long since swollen shut. Strangled cries escaped the servants mouth each time Arzela applied pressure to a new point on his body.

Arzela worked for several long minutes, until the servants body began to react less strongly to the pressure she was applying. When she felt his muscles release under her hands, Arzela pulled back, motioning for Tadek to do the same. “Would you bring my medicine bag and the water pitcher over here please Tadek?”

Tadek fetched the bag and the pitcher, setting them on the table next to the bed where Arzela could easily reach them. Arzela carefully rolled the servant onto his back, making sure not to touch the swollen red lines on his skin. She dug through her bag before extracting a small vial filled with a translucent blue liquid. “Help me sit him up, we must give him this.”

With Tadek’s help, Arzela was able to pour the liquid down the servants throat and get him to swallow it. At first, he tried to gag the liquid back up, but Arzela covered his mouth and nose with her hand, forcing him to swallow it down. The two companions set him back down where he lay, panting slightly, and shivering. This time, Arzela went for her regular pack bag, and dug deeply into it before finally pulling out a small stone wrapped in fabric.

Tadek eyed the little package uneasily. “Are you sure about this?”

“We have little choice. If we do not, he will surely die sometime in the night.”

“Yes, but if you _do_ he may die _right now_.”

Arzela shook her head. “No, if he was going to expire that easily, he already would have done so.”

Tadek, looked grim but conceded the point. He approached the servant again, holding him more firmly this time. Arzela partially unwrapped the stone, making certain that her skin never touched it’s surface. Etched on its face were small inscriptions. Older even than the old religion, were the words carved there. Arzela held the servant still with one hand, the inscribed stone in the other.

Taking a deep, sorrowful breath, she placed the stone against the worst of the swelling on the servants barred shoulder. This time the servant screamed openly, a sharp jab of sound that cut off almost instantly as the servant thrashed violently, eyes fluttering as they strained, trying not to turn suddenly gold. Heart wrenching whimpers escaped the mans mouth. Both Arzela and Tadek looked stricken at the man’s pain.

“…please…please stop…”

“…I’m sorry… I’m _sorry_ …just stop… _please_ …it hurts…too much… _please_ …”

The servant continued to plead in broken, tear-filled whispers for what felt like ages. Finally, his body began to relax, and he quieted.

Arzela pulled away the now ice-cold stone, wrapping it securely and stashing it away in the bottom of her bag again. The red lines had retreated considerably now, the swelling at the mans shoulder much less severe.

Arzela grabbed the water pitcher and poured some into a shallow bowl. Taking some herbs from her medicine bag, she crushed them into the bowl of water, making a thick paste. Walking back over to the servant who lay panting on the bed, she placed the bowl down next to him. When Arzela carefully smoothed the paste over the swollen lines of skin, the servant flinched and began pleading absently for the pain to stop again. It did not take long for the numbing effect of the paste to start to work though, and the servant relaxed.

After covering the numbing paste with bandages, Arzela sat back in the only chair in the room, scrubbing her hand down her face. “That is the best we can do for him with what we have. I only hope it’s enough.”

“May the gods take pity on his soul,” agreed Tadek, watching the servant shift on the bed.


	3. Painful Truths

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: DISCLAIMER – In this chapter I use some quotes direct from the series. I OWN NOTHING, ALL RIGHTS TO THE BBC.  
> These chapters just keep getting longer, it would seem, but this one needed to be like this. Please, please leave a review! Anything you’ve got to say that could help me improve my writing is greatly appreciated. Thank you, and enjoy!

At some point, Arthur had managed to find the will-power needed to move from the floor to his desk chair. There he sat, his sword, the sword Merlin had led him to, lay on the table in front of him, glittering in the failing light of the day. _‘I believe in you. I always have…One day you will learn Arthur, one day you will understand, just how much they’ve done for you…Not even Emrys can save you now!’_

Phrases, images, other voices flooded Arthur’s mind. He was still not sure what to make of it all. He had seen magic do so much harm, seen it take so many people from him, even when it didn’t kill them. And then Merlin had magic. _Merlin_ , who was always there with that stupid, endearing grin of his. _Merlin_ , who was never afraid to speak his mind to his king. Merlin who had always given him good advice, always helped him make the right decisions.

_‘Hadn’t he?’_

When his father had been dying, Arthur had asked Merlin if he should heal Uther with magic, and Merlin had told him that if he were in Arthur’s place, he would have done whatever it took to save his father. So Arthur had tried to heal Uther, and Uther had died because of it.

_‘This wasn’t supposed to happen!’_

The old man had said that, looking just as horrified and disbelieving as Arthur had.

_‘The sorcerer did not kill your father…He did everything in his power to save him…I had feared you would seek him out and execute him, that would’ve been a grave mistake…’_

Gaius had told him that, and thinking back, Arthur had to admit, the old man’s reaction made a lot more sense if it had all been a horrible accident.

Could there be another reason the spell had not worked? Why had it backfired like that, killing Uther rather than saving him?

 _‘Agravaine,’_ supplied Arthur’s mind, unbidden. Agravaine had been working for Morgana. Agravaine had betrayed him. And hadn’t Arthur _told_ Agravaine what he was planning to do? Hadn’t Arthur _told him that he would use magic_ to save Uther? What if Agravaine had taken that knowledge to Morgana? Had she given him some charm or something that would make the healing backfire?

If that was the case, the old man couldn’t have know that by trying to save Uther, he was sealing his fate. The sorcerer couldn’t have know that by trying to help the king, he was dooming his kind, doming himself. He had never intended for any of that to happen. He had wanted peace, wanted freedom.

And then after that, what had Arthur done? He had sat here, in this very room, and told Merlin, Merlin _who also had magic_ , that it was pure evil, and that he would never trust it again.

Arthur could not lie to himself now, he was not angry about the magic, at least not really. He was angry about the lies. But then, had he ever given Merlin any reason, any reason at all, to think he might be accepted for his abilities? Every time Arthur found himself opening up to the idea of magic, something had happened to turn him against it again. And he had lamented to Merlin how dangerous magic was, how it was pure evil. Only now, while remembering, did Arthur realise that every time he had said something like that to Merlin, his face had become a blank mask, while his eyes began to glisten, almost as if he had suffered a great blow to his heart.

_‘And he had.’_

Arthur did not understand why Merlin had stuck around him for so long, when he had repeatedly and avidly denounced magic as the embodiment of all evil. Denounced _Merlin_ as evil.

Something cold trickled down Arthur’s spine, and he shivered, gripping the edge of the table with white knuckled hands. How many times could someone hear that they were evil and dangerous before they started to believe it might just be true? How many times could you listen to someone lament that you, and everyone like you deserved to be hunted down and killed, even if you had never done anything wrong yourself? How long could you live with someone, look them in the eye each and every day and know that if they _ever_ found out about you, you would die? How long would you last before you snapped?

 _‘Morgana, that is what happened to Morgana!’_ thought Arthur as he broke out into a cold sweat. _‘She did not turn to darkness because she had been corrupted by magic, she had been corrupted by Morgause. Driven into the woman’s welcoming arms by her fear of what the people around her would do if they learned what she really was.’_

She had always been short-tempered and fierce, so when she snapped, she had lashed out at her prosecutors. And she continues to lash out. They had made her fear for her life, for the lives of her kind. _‘Kill or be killed.’_

But Merlin had been around for _less_ time than Morgana, and that hadn’t happened to him. Why was that?

_‘I believe in you Arthur, I always have.’_

The words rang through Arthur’s head as he stared at the blade in front of him. Merlin had never snapped, because he believed Arthur would one day free him and his kind. Merlin had stayed with him, despite everything, because he still honestly believed that one day things would be different. He still held hope that Arthur could accept him.

Only now, that hope was gone, crushed, by the very man Merlin had believed in. Arthur had, without even realising it, found the single most important support for the foundation of everything Merlin was, and then tore it out from under him. Arthur had taken that hope, and thrown it bodily from the room, along with the man himself.

_‘Dear God!...What have I done!?’_

Arthur sprang up from his chair, a cold fist clutching suddenly at his heart. _‘No! I can’t let it happen to Merlin too! I can’t lose him like that, I have to go after him!’_ Arthur only hoped that it was not already too late to save him. _‘I need to find Merlin, NOW!’_

Before Arthur hand so much as a chance to move, the door to his chambers opened and Guinevere walked in. Arthur stood frozen at his table, staring at her like he had never seen her before, the full force of reality crashing into him for the first time that evening. _‘Dam it!’_ He had forgotten about all the others in his hurt and turmoil. All the others who would want to know what had happened, where Merlin had gone.

By this time, Gwen had noticed something strange in Arthur’s behaviour and stopped, looking concerned. “Arthur? Is everything alright?”

 _‘No, it is not alright,’_ thought Arthur, _‘I might have just lost Merlin.’_ He _really_ did not want to tell her that though.

At his continued silence, Gwen glanced around the room, as if looking for some explanation. Maybe she was just looking for Merlin, so that he could explain Arthur’s strange behaviour. She wouldn’t find him, though. Not here, not now.

Arthur snapped back to reality again as Gwen gasped in shock, staring at the stranger laying sprawled against the wall of the room, very clearly dead. “Arthur! What happened? Who is that!?” she half-yelled in a high-pitched squeak.

She approached him quickly, and scanned him for any signs of injury with her eyes. “Are you hurt? Did he attack you? And where’s Merlin? Is _he_ hurt? Is that why he’s not here? Did you send him to Gaius already? What – ”

“Guinevere,” said Arthur, cutting across her rambling as he took hold of her shoulders and made her look him in the eye. “No one was hurt. He never got the chance to do anything to me, or anyone else.”

Something in his eyes must have belied his inner turmoil though, because Gwen bit her lip as she cast a wary glance around the room again. “But then where is Merlin? He wouldn’t just leave you after something like that…”

Arthur felt like she had just punched him in the gut. Hard. _‘No, Merlin would never have just_ left _after someone tried to assassinate me in my own chambers. At the very least, he would not have left me alone.’_

But Arthur did not have time for this. He did not have time to stand here and explain everything to Gwen. Not while every second he wasted placed Merlin farther beyond where Arthur could reach him. _‘He will_ not _become like Morgana. He couldn’t…I won’t let it come to that.’_

His continued silence was only serving to frighten Guinevere. “What’s going on Arthur? What’s happened? Please, talk to me,”

Arthur squeezed Gwen’s shoulders reassuringly, all the while coming to a kind of decision. “I know you have a lot of questions right now, and that you are worried Guinevere, but for reasons I can’t explain right now, I don’t have time to answer you.”

She was about to cut him off, but he forestalled her with a determined, pleading look. “No, don’t Guinevere, please.”

“I need you to trust me right now. I promise I _will_ explain everything that has happened, but I have some important things I need to do first.”

“Did anyone see you come in here?” Gwen was beginning to look suspicious as well as confused now.

“No, I don’t know. Why – ”

“I need you to slip out the servants entrance without letting anyone see you go. Circle back around and put as much distance between yourself and here as you can, then turn and head back to our chambers. I will call the guards to deal with him, and order them to take you to the throne room to keep you safe until I come for you. Act as if you don’t know anything about what has happened. When I do come, I promise I will answer any questions you have. Can you do that?”

She searched his eyes, looking for he knew-not what. Seeming to find what she was looking for, Gwen tentatively gave her ascent before moving off towards the servants entrance. “I will hold you to that Arthur, I think I deserve an explanation for all this,” she said as she disappeared through the door.

Arthur stood watching the door for a moment, making sure that Gwen was not about to change her mind and walk back in. When he was certain she was gone, Arthur walked to the foot of his bed where the would-be assassin’s knife lay forgotten on the floor. He picked it up and stared at it, considering.

There needed to be some weapon when he called the guards in. He could not have them thinking the assassin had been magic, even though he was. It would be harder to explain everything away if everyone knew that his attacker had been magic, and that his servant had still somehow managed to surprise and kill him, leaving the king untouched. Arthur bent to examine the body without moving it. At first glance, it looked like the man had not a mark on him, but then Arthur noticed that what had really killed him was a broken neck. He had landed hard at an awkward angle, which had resulted in his neck breaking. _‘Ok, good. Maybe I can work with this after all.’_

Arthur dropped the knife a believable distance from the man’s body, and then looked around for something that the assailant could have tripped over. Arthur carefully arranged the scene so that it looked like his assailant had fallen back with force and broken his neck for his troubles.

It might be questioned, but then again it might not. At least Arthur knew that _nobody_ would have any issues if he said that Merlin had thrown himself at the assailant to save Arthur.

Composing himself into what he felt was the proper mind frame, Arthur yanked open his chamber door, stuck his head out and yelled for the guards. Several came running down the hall from the opposite end to where the servants entrance was. _‘Perfect.’_ Those first three guards entered in confusion as Arthur ordered them to take away the body, guard the room, and to search for the Queen. Everything seemed to be going perfectly, even as more guards showed up to find out what the disturbance had been, but nobody questioned anything in his story. _‘Not that they would, I am their king, after all,’_ thought Arthur.

Then Leon showed up, looking highly concerned for his liege. When the knight entered the room, he glanced around quickly before his eyes settled on Arthur, assessing his king for any visible signs of injury. The tension in his shoulders relaxed when he saw none, and then he approached. “Sire! What has happened here?”

 _‘Shit, shit, Shit! Why does Leon have to always be the first one on the scene!’_ “This man tried to attack me with a knife,” said Arthur, pointing as the guards took the body away, “And Merlin, the complete _idiot_ that he is tackled the man before he could do anything.” Oh, how useful his princely training was in that exact moment.

Leon looked suddenly concerned. “Was Merlin harmed Sire? Is that why he’s not here with you now?”

“No, he’s fine. It seems his clumsiness is contagious. He tackled the assassin and made the man trip backwards and fall, breaking his own neck. Merlin was fine,” and before Leon could ask anything further, he said, “I sent him to look for Guinevere, to make sure she was safe.” Arthur then told Leon how he had ordered for the Queen to be taken to the throne room and guarded until he came for her, and the knight immediately took off to ensure that it was done.

He did not even question Merlin taking on Arthur’s assailant, nor the fact that said man had been killed by what Arthur described as a freak accident. _‘Thank the gods,’_ thought Arthur, but he also filed away the information for latter consideration.

Making his excuse, Arthur headed for the physicians chambers, hoping that if Merlin had already left, Gaius might have some idea of where he had gone. There was no doubt in Arthur’s mind that that was where Merlin had gone after being thrown from the room.

Outside night had already fallen, and Arthur knew that if Merlin had left as quickly as he could, he would not be able to track him in the dark. It made him slightly more nervous, and he sped up his pace as the approached the physicians tower. When Arthur arrived, he pushed his way through the door into the room, and was greeted by Gaius’ startled exclamation.

“Sire! I heard the warning bells, is everything alright? Are you hurt?” Arthur stopped in his tracks, staring at Gaius. The man had not acted or sounded any different from how he usually did, and it made Arthur’s palms begin to sweat.

 _‘He doesn’t know. Merlin didn’t come here after all.’_ But then, where had he gone?

“I’m fine Gaius, there was an intruder discovered in my chambers, but it’s been dealt with.”

“An intruder?”

“Yes,” said Arthur before pausing. He considered his next words carefully. If Gaius didn’t already know about what had happened with Merlin, and Arthur told him, the old man would likely shut down and refuse to tell him anything in order to protect him. And Arthur needed Gaius to talk. He needed to find out where everything stood at the moment. “I was actually looking for Merlin. I sent him to find Guinevere and make sure she was safe, but he seems to have disappeared on me.”

Arthur had managed to make that sound quite natural, but he news still seemed to concern Gaius. _‘What is he worried about?’_

“I’m sorry Sire, but I haven’t seen him since this morning. I’ll be sure to let him know your looking for him when I do.”

“Please do,” said Arthur, “And now I guess I’ll just have to go and find Guinevere myself,” and he left the room, a sinking feeling in his stomach.

Arthur attempted to control the sudden fear he felt gripping his heart as he left the physicians chambers. He had been _so sure_ that Merlin would have gone there after he had thrown him out, but Gaius knew nothing.

 _‘I’ll have to tell him what happened eventually. He’ll worry when Merlin does not return.’_ But the question still remained, why had Merlin not gone back to his chambers when he had been thrown out? Had he been so worried about what Arthur might do to him that he left, without telling Gaius, without even gathering his possessions? _‘Or was it because he worried what I might have done to Gaius if I found out that he had gone back there?’_

That at least, was far more likely. Merlin would not want to put anyone else at risk, even unto his own detriment.

_‘I need to talk to someone else about all this. I feel like there is something bigger going on here. It doesn’t make any sense for Merlin to have just up and disappeared without even telling Gaius. Something more is wrong here, and I don’t know what it is.’_

Before Arthur knew where he was or what he was really doing, he found himself outside the throne room. As he opened the doors and entered, he ordered the guards not to let anyone else in. Guinevere was waiting for him, pacing agitatedly across the room. “Arthur,” started Gwen, but he only held up a hand before collapsing into the nearest chair, his head in his hands. He needed to gather his thoughts first. He felt a soft hand on his shoulder.

“Arthur, what’s going on? Your starting to scare me.”

Arthur motioned for Gwen to get herself a seat soundlessly, trying to marshal his thoughts. He was not even sure where he was supposed to begin.

Gwen took a seat across from him and settled herself. “I’m not sure where to start,” he said honestly.

“Why not with the attack on you in our chambers. The guards said that Merlin had something to do with stopping it.”

“He did. Just not in way they think he did.”

“So what really happened?”

Arthur clutched his hands in front of him, nails digging into his palms before he spoke. “Merlin and I went back to my chambers after I had finished training. He had helped me take off all my armour and change, like always. It was after Merlin had put the armour and sword off to the side that the assassin revealed himself. Neither of us had realised he was there. The second we saw him, his eyes flashed gold and he incanted a spell. Neither of us could move. I couldn’t even speak. I was just…frozen. And I could see that Merlin was the same.”

“He had magic!” exclaimed Gwen. “And he cast a spell to freeze you both in place?”

“…Yes…”

Guinevere’s forehead creased in confusion. “…but then, how could Merlin have saved you? You said that he couldn’t move either.”

Arthur made himself unclench his hands and shake them out before he locked gazes with Gwen. “He couldn’t. That’s what I still don’t understand,” whispered Arthur, his eyes not leaving Gwen’s.

“That man pulled out his knife, and stalked towards me. Of course, I was trying to fight the spell binding me, but there was nothing I could do. Merlin was the same. The man ranted at me a little, and then drew back his knife, ready to strike, only the blow never landed. The second he started to move, Merlin somehow seemed to break the spells hold on him,” Arthur paused here, watching Gwen’s reaction. “It was what he did next that I couldn’t understand. That I _still_ don’t really understand.”

“The second he saw the knife move, Merlin managed to cry out for the man to stop…When he did that, the binding spell seemed to break for both of us, and we both almost fell over when it released. And the man, he was blasted back, the knife dropping useless from his hand. He broke his neck when he hit the ground.”

Guinevere was struggling to comprehend what she was being told. Arthur couldn’t blame her, if he hadn’t been there, if he hadn’t seen it for himself, even Arthur wouldn’t have believed it.

“So, his spell worked against him when it broke?” she almost sounded hopeful as she asked.

“…no, that’s not what happened.”

“It was Merlin…Merlin who broke the enchantment…Merlin who threw the man half-way across the room, killing him. Merlin…he used magic.”

Gwen was staring, horror-struck at Arthur, as if she hoped he would just come out and yell “fooled you!”.

Arthur’s continued silence eventually spurred her into speech. “But Merlin can’t…It must’ve been…he doesn’t…”

“He has magic Guinevere,” said Arthur grimly, “I saw him. I _saw_ him. I watched his eyes flash gold as he yelled. I watched a man he was too far away to touch fly fifteen feet across the room and land, dead. Merlin has magic.”

“He wouldn’t betray you like that. Maybe…maybe it was a trick of the attackers spell.”

Arthur shook his head at her. He knew this wasn’t the case. He had confronted Merlin right then, sword retrieved from it’s sheath and drawn against _another_ potential traitor. Merlin hadn’t denied the magic, he knew Arthur wouldn’t hear it. But he had denied betraying him. _‘I use it for you Arthur! Only for you!’_

“No Guinevere. I confronted him right then. He didn’t deny it.”

“Merlin wouldn’t betray you like that…”

_‘No, he wouldn’t, so why learn magic in the first place? Unless…unless he always had it.’_

“I don’t think he did it to betray me,” said Arthur quietly, “I think he may have had magic all along. It would explain a number of strange things that have happened around him over the years.”

Gwen fidgeted distractedly with her hands in her lap. “What did you do? When you found out?” she asked, he voice cautious.

Arthur ran his hands through his hair, sighing heavily as a weight settled in his stomach. “I was angry. I drew my sword, threatened him,” Gwen inhaled a sharp breath, so Arthur hurried on. “But I never struck him. It wouldn’t have been right, he had just saved my life. But I wasn’t thinking strait. I yelled at him. Called him a liar and a traitor. The whole time, he just kept pleading with me, trying to get me to listen. Trying to tell me he had never used it against me or Camelot. _‘I use it for you Arthur, only for you!’_ , that’s what he said to me, but I wasn’t listening. I told him to get out. To leave Camelot and never return. That was when he collapsed to the floor in front of me…he was begging with me to hear him out, even as he cried. But I was too angry to listen. So I threw him, literally _threw_ him out the door. And I haven’t seen him since.”

Gwen was crying now, hands buried in the folds of her dress, clutching to it like it was her last lifeline. After a long time, Gwen managed to somehow find her voice again, but it was husky with tears. “What will you do now? You told the guards and Leon that Merlin just tackled the man, and he accidently broke his neck when he fell. Why? If you exiled him, told him to get out, why keep the magic secret?”

“Because I had time to think,” said Arthur, slumped in his chair. “He may have used magic, but he did it to save my life. I would be dead right now if he hadn’t done that. And when I thought back, there were too many times when facing supposedly unkillable magical creatures where I was knocked out, or distracted in some way and turned around to find the thing dead or gone. Too many times in battles where I turned around to face an opponent who seemed to be killed by phantom spears no one ever seemed to throw, or a random falling branch.”

“He _had_ been using it to protect me, without anyone even noticing. And he never once tried to claim any credit for it. Even today, when I…confronted him…he never said anything about saving my life, only trying to tell me that he had never used his magic against me.” Arthur mused in silence for several long minutes before Gwen brought him back to earth.

“Did you find him? That was where you went before, wasn’t it? To go find him, to tell him this?” Arthur could only nod.

“I went to Gaius. I figured Merlin would have at least gone back there to collect his things before he fled, but when I got there, Gaius knew nothing. Told me he hadn’t seen Merlin since this morning. And he was too relaxed to have been lying. Merlin just vanished. I have no idea where he is now. And I don’t think anyone else does either.”

The news that not even Gaius knew what had happened seemed to concern Gwen just as much, if not more than it did Arthur. “He wouldn’t have left without at least saying goodbye, even if he didn’t explain himself.”

“That’s what I thought too, but Gaius hasn’t seen him.”

“He has to still be here somewhere then. He wouldn’t have just…left.”

Arthur scrubbed his hand down his face. “I’m worried Guinevere…you didn’t see him when I threw him out. I’ve seen dying men more aware than he was…if he is still here somewhere…I shudder to think what state he might be in. And if he really has left already, I can only hope I haven’t pushed him into becoming exactly what I at first accused him of already being.”

Gwen took Arthur’s hands in hers. “It _won’t_ happen Arthur. He won’t become like Morgana. He cares about all of us too much to do that.”

Arthur tried to let himself be comforted by his wife’s certainty, but he also had other concerns to worry about. “What am I supposed to tell Gaius? He’ll be the first to realise Merlin’s missing.” “We can’t do anything this late at night Arthur. We’ll have to wait for the morning. And if Gaius still hasn’t seen Merlin by then, we’ll have to tell him. And then we’ll think what to do once we’ve heard from him.”

It was as good a plan as they were going to be able to make. Arthur prayed to whatever god may have been listening that whatever had happened, Merlin would be able to hang on until then.


	4. Musings and Fear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: DISCLAIMER – some quotes from the series are used in this chapter. I OWN NOTHING, ALL RIGHTS TO THE BBC

Kilgharrah flew through the chill air that cloaked the frosted peaks of the White Mountains, simply enjoying the feeling of his freedom and the wind under his wings. Since Merlin had managed to rescue and then hatch Aithusa, he had found a deep sense of contentment. He would not be the last dragon to roam the earth after all. He already wasn’t.

Kilgharrah flapped his mighty wings, rising on an updraft into the dewy clouds. The sun was beginning to cast it’s rosy glow over the land as it began to sink towards the horizon, far, far below where he glided through the air.

The old dragon breathed in deeply, relishing freedom, and hope for the future. He had hope left in young Aithusa, that dragons would continue to roam the earth for a long time yet, and, despite their rocky start, Kilgharrah had hope that the young warlock would be able to help Arthur build the Albion of his dreams, and free magic once again.

He should have known by then that his tranquil glide was too good to be true. As he soared around the mountain tops, an agonized, tortured scream crashed through his defenses and pierced his mind with its horrifying intensity. The grief and pain he felt in that moment was enough to stun him, his wings ceasing to propel him through the air. Big as he was though, Kilgharrah glided for several hundred feet more before dropping like a stone towards the ground so far below.

_‘You do not belong here…’_

The words sliced through Kilgharrah’s mind like a heated blade, burning as it tore through his thoughts. It was only after slamming his mental defenses down again that Kilgharrah was able to righten himself in the air.

He hovered for a moment, flapping his great wings, staring off in the direction of Camelot as an emotion no dragon should feel began to grip his heart: fear.

_‘No, this cannot happen.’_

Without another seconds hesitation, Kilgharrah took off like a speeding arrow towards Camelot. He could not remember the last time he had flown this fast. It must’ve been when he was still young and full of the energy that is always taken for granted in youth, but coveted and missed dearly in old age. Kilgharrah could feel the strain this was putting on his old body, but he had to reach Camelot, and quickly.

_‘He has to live. His soul cannot be that damaged, surely? What could have possibly happened to cause this?’_

Though they had had their differences, Kilgharrah had grown fond of the young warlock. He knew that the young humans greatest strength was also his greatest weakness. He felt _so deeply_ for everyone, about everything. A trait that was so very rare among all creatures really, and one which humans always seemed to take for granted more than anything else in the world. Kilgharrah knew the consequences of those connections turning in on themselves and shattering.

It was then that Kilgharrah beat his wings just that much faster, shooting through the sky like a glittering gold comet.

_‘Did the young King learn of Merlin’s magic, and reject him for it? Is that why this has happened?’_

Kilgharrah sincerely hoped that it was not the case, but a part of him knew. Knew that nothing else could have put the young warlock in so much pain. Nothing else could have made his soul cry out, it’s voice reaching across hundreds of leagues into his mind.

Despite his frenzied haste, he was careful as he approached the city. He could not enter it, per the young warlock’s command, and he did not want to alert the guards to his presence. He was supposed to be dead, after all. And his being alive would not help the warlocks case with his king.

As he circled the city from high above in the clouds, Kilgharrah pulled down his defences, brick by slow brick, and tried to reach out to Merlin’s mind. Immediately he was assaulted by the red-hot knife of the warlock’s agonized thoughts.

_‘Freak…abomination…monster…Emrys,’_

Kilgharrah felt the snap of the warlock’s thoughts in his very bones.

 _‘Merlin! MERLIN!’_ yelled Kilgharrah in his head, refraining from roaring audibly into the sky with difficulty. But the warlock either could not, or would not answer him. _‘Merlin!’_

Kilgharrah struggled to stay within his own mind as he was assaulted by the warlock’s immense pain. If he slipped too far into that, it would paralyse him with dread, and he would fall right out of the sky onto the city.

He flew in agitated circles, praying that some solution would present itself. He would contact the old physician if he could, but the man’s magic was not strong enough to allow him to speak with Kilgharrah in his mind. And he likely would not know how to help the warlock anyways.

Suddenly Kilgharrah was snapped back to his surroundings as something collided with his side in mid-air. Aithusa, the young dragon had appeared. She dropped several feet before managing to righten herself again after colliding with her larger kin. She came up and flew in agitated circles around Kilgharrah’s head, her concern and fear for their Dragon Lord radiating through the air.

She stopped and hovered in front of his face, squawking at him in her restlessness. _‘…Help…daddy?...’_

Her confusion and concern came through clearly. Her command of the English language however, was still not quite up to par.

Kilgharrah knew that Merlin was still in the city, knew that he could not retrieve the warlock this time to help him. Aithusa was small enough that had she been any other colour, Kilgharrah may have been tempted to tell her to find and help their Dragon Lord. As it was, the possibility of her being seen was too high, and she was too small to be able to carry the warlock out of the city.

As they hovered there above Camelot, Kilgharrah brooding over what to do, he felt a sudden change in the pain radiating from the warlock.

Someone was helping him, healing him. Kilgharrah allowed his heart to lighten for just a moment. Aithusa cocked her head to the side at him, and chirruped happily, clearly sensing the same thing.

_‘Someone…helping daddy!’_

It was true, someone _was_ helping the young warlock, and in the way he needed it.

_‘Perhaps he is not so far lost as I had feared.’_

With someone tending to the warlock directly, Kilgharrah now had a plan. It took some time for Kilgharrah to persuade Aithusa to move off to a secluded clearing where they could land and remain undiscovered by the men of Camelot. They both had connections to the Dragon Lord that placed them perfectly to aid the efforts of whoever was helping him. Kilgharrah being the first dragon Merlin had faced as a Dragon Lord, and Aithusa being a dragon he had hatched himself.

So they sat there in their clearing, feeding the young warlock strength through their bonds to him. The two dragons curled up against one another as they tried to weather the storm of the warlock’s pain, but they dared not close themselves to him, for then they would not be able to help. They sat there, shivering with the warlock’s grief as they fed him strength through the night.

_‘Perhaps it will be enough, perhaps he may yet live.’_

* * *

It had taken Gwen some time to convince Arthur that there was nothing more he could do in the middle of the night, and that he should try and get some sleep.

But Arthur was not convinced, even though she knew he realised that there was nothing more he could do. In the end, Gwen had told him that Merlin might be more likely to show himself if Arthur did not send men out searching for him.

“If he’s really that worried about you…throwing him out…and you tear the citadel apart looking for him in the middle of the night, he’s more likely to try and slip away without you ever getting the chance to talk to him again.”

Eventually, Arthur conceded the point. _‘Not that he really wants too, but because he can’t see any other way forward.’_ Gwen knew that Arthur was afraid what would happen if he pressed too hard to find Merlin now.

When they finally left the throne room, Arthur pulled himself together in front of the guards, once again standing tall and strong, as their King should. But Gwen knew that it was just a front, knew that beneath his kingly façade, Arthur had never been less sure of himself than he was in that moment.

They reached their chambers, and got themselves ready for bed in complete silence. Gwen was surprised when Arthur fell asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillows. Clearly the turmoil of the day had taken a deep toll on him.

Gwen knew however, that she was not likely to get much sleep tonight.

She lay in bed next to Arthur, staring at the canopy above her, thoughts churning in her head.

 _‘I could’ve beaten him…I’m in disguise…Alright, I’ll tell you…I’m psychic…Why haven’t you fallen under her spell…There’s something about_ you _…’_

So many conversations over the years, so many times when Merlin had acted strange, or seemed to know things he shouldn’t, even unto seeming to know about everything bad that was going to happen before it ever actually did. Merlin made a lot more sense if he had always had magic, the whole time.

Yes, she was hurt that he had lied to her, lied to them all, and for a brief moment in time, she had wondered. But in the end, magic didn’t really change who he was, did it? Because he had always had it. It was the only explanation.

She understood. They needed to have a long conversation, she knew, but she understood why he had kept his secret for so long. She didn’t hold it against him _‘I just hope I get the chance to tell him that.’_

* * *

Gaius sat alone in his and Merlin’s chambers, waiting for his ward to return, a bowl of stew sitting untouched and cold on the table.

If there had been an intruder discovered in Arthur’s chambers, and that intruder had been magic, which was only too possible, then there was every possibility that right now, Merlin was off doing something both brave and stupid to protect his King. Arthur had come in here looking for Merlin, lamenting that fact that he had sent him off to ensure Gwen’s safety, and then had disappeared.

_‘Wherever you are Merlin, I hope you are alright.’_

He knew that Merlin could look after himself, but he also knew that Merlin was not infallible. He had been hurt in the past. _‘Probably many more times than even I know about.’_

So he waited for Merlin to return, and if he eventually fell asleep on the job as the night wore on, no one would know come morning other than Gaius himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Aithusa’s appearance here is mostly because we did not get enough adorable-baby-dragon in the show, and then she was broken and twisted physically because of being stuck in a hole with Morgana for two years. Well, that’s not going to happen, because Daddy Dragon Lord needs help! I really think that, given the situation, Aithusa calling Merlin “daddy” is not too far-fetched, considering that she’s so young and it was he who called her from the egg.  
> Gwen doesn’t hate Merlin! Not that I think she would at any point, even within cannon. And Gaius thinks that Merlin’s off doing something idiotic that will probably save the kingdom.  
> For anyone who’s become accustomed to my rapid posting of new chapters, I will be MIA for the next half-week-ish, though that does probably mean that several chapters will be uploaded all at once when I get back. Please send me your thoughts in a review! Any constructive criticism you may have is greatly appreciated!


	5. To Forget and To Remember

Arzela stayed in the chair watching over her new charge while Tadek found a place on the floor where he could rest his back against the wall.

“You should go and get some sleep, you’ll need to be rested for when we leave tomorrow.”

“You should sleep too, you know.”

Arzela smiled crookedly at her companion. “I should.”

She knew that Tadek would not press her further, just as she knew that Tadek realized there would be nothing he could say that would make her go to bed now.

After a very long pause, during which the servant continued to shiver and moan on the bed, Tadek spoke. “Why do you think that the king will not mount a man hunt for him?”

Arzela turned to look at him. “I don’t think that there will be a search mounted because one hasn’t already been started. If the king himself really did find out about this man’s secret, and he got away despite the kings efforts, the warning bell would’ve been rung immediately. That we still have not heard the bells, and it has been at least a good couple hours, tells me the king has decided to let him go. I do not believe that we will have to worry when we leave here with him tomorrow, though we should still be very careful.”

Tadek looked thoughtful, and settled back to rest his head against the wall.

Every so often, the servant would inhale a sharp breath, his eyes fluttering, turning gold. His muscles would strain for a moment, and he would thrash about on the bed. Then the gold would fade, and the man would quieten once again. Each time this happened, less and less of the man’s magic managed to seep out and cause things in the room to rattle where they stood. After a few times, nothing moved at all.

Tadek began to dose off, but Arzela remained fixated on the servant, her frown deepening each time his magic vied for release and was shoved back under.

“You need to go to bed Tadek.”

Tadek’s head had fallen forwards onto his chest, and he jerked upright, eyes wide as he looked around at Arzela.

“Hmm,…yes…sleep sounds good,” yawned Tadek sleepily. He shuffled off and made it to his own room with Arzela’s help.

While herding her friend into his bed, Arzela’s face had broken out into an indulgent smile. When she returned to her own room though, the smile fell away to be replaced by a concerned frown.

She checked the servants bandages and found that the swelling was better than it had been, if only by a little. She pulled her chair right up next to the servants bed, and sat down, watching as he slept fitfully.

_‘The swelling is going down, but his condition does not really seem to be getting any better. There must be something more wrong, though what that could be, I have no idea.’_

Arzela continued to watch the servant. His eyelids fluttered again, revealing irises just barely flashing gold. She watched as his whole body tensed and jerked with the strain of holding in the magic, her frown deepening.

 _‘At first I thought it looked like his magic was causing him pain, but I knew that couldn’t be true. He’s not in pain because of his magic, he’s in pain because he refuses to use it.’_ She could not fathom why that would be though, and she knew of only one way to figure it out.

There was a good reason for Arzela’s interest in the deep magic of the world. She herself had been affected by it. She had one day found herself suddenly in possession of an ability she did not understand, and could not control. It had scared her more than anything ever had before in her life. She had been frightened, mostly because she grew up in Uther’s Camelot, and her new ability could only be called magic. She didn’t know why the devil’s power had suddenly chosen her as its vessel.

It was that ability which first led her to Vartee. She had no idea how to control her new gift, and had been so overwhelmed that it had hurt. Someone had found her in that state, and taken her to the city, where she was helped by healers and magicians to control or get rid of her gift. They were successful in teacher her control. It was then that she studied until she understood, until she could truly sympathize. It was through her studies that she learned magic was not inherently evil, but was what you made of it. That lesson was one she steadfastly refused to forget.

Arzela rarely used her ability. She had long ago decided that it could become an invasion of privacy if abused, and she had never wanted to do that to people.

She had known, if she was honest, that she would need to use her ability to help this man, right from the first moment she discovered the swelling. Now, she realized that if she wanted to help the man live, she had no choice but to use it.

Sighing defeatedly, Arzela placed a hand on the man’s chest and closed her eyes. The servant shifted under the touch, but did not flinch away. She carefully opened the door on her ability, hoping the man would react and reach out for it. When that didn’t happen, she took a deep, steadying breath, and pushed her senses towards the man before her.

The second she made contact, Arzela found herself crushed under the weight of the man’s grief. It squeezed the breath out of her, exploding agony the likes of which she had never known through her body.

She reacted by instinct, slamming the door shut on her ability, locking it tightly away. She jerked her hand away from the mans chest, toppling backwards in her chair and landing in a crumpled heap on the floor. After what could have been a thousand years, but was really only a few second, Arzela came to herself, and realised that she was on the floor with tears in her eyes. Wiping the tears away with shaking hands, Arzela replaced her chair and sat down again. Outside in the town, the warning bell sounded.

* * *

The small group of nights that had spent their evening in revelry at the Rising Sun was beginning to disperse back to the citadel. One who was continuing to drink his life away though, was Sir Gwaine. He downed the last dregs of his drink while the other knights, Sir Percival among them, attempted to convince him to head back for the night.

“Oh, go back to bed you lot, stop being such spoil-sports! Just ‘cause you ladies can’t hold your drinks no more, doesn’t mean I can’t either!” He shook his empty mug at Percival, who was doing his best not to look amused.

Appearing to give it up as a bad job, Percival shrugged and turned to go. “Don’t blame me when your hung over tomorrow for Arthur’s training session,” and then he left.

Gwaine hailed the barmaid, rattling his mug at her enthusiastically. While he did, he seemed to get the growing feeling that there was something missing here tonight, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on what.

“Hey there Hazel, don’t you look pretty as a princess tonight.”

The barmaid, Hazel, threw Gwaine a half-amused, long-suffering sort of look. “And you are more drunk than usual, Sir Gwaine. I’d expect anything in a dress to look _‘pretty as a princess’_ to you tonight.”

Gwaine put his hand on his heart, looking wounded. “Ah Hazel, that hurts, you know I’ve only eyes for you m’lady.”

Hazel snorted in a very unladylike way as she made off with all the empty tankards, leaving Gwaine with a freshly filled cup in his hand.

Gwaine made his way through another half-dozen drinks happily, watching the revelry around him. The feeling that he was missing something, or someone, kept growing stronger, but with his ail-addled brain, Gwaine could not figure out why.

_‘Why do I feel like something’s missing? My cup is full, the room’s buzzing, and good old Hazel is still as elusive as ever.’_

Gwaine shook off the feeling and raised his cup, taking a large swig before slamming it back down on the table. He suppressed a large belch as he smacked his lips appreciatively.

No sooner had Gwaine finished his latest tankard when the warning bells sounded in the citadel.

The whole tavern suddenly froze, every head turning towards Gwaine. _‘Oh, damn, there goes a good night of drinking,’_ thought Gwaine sadly.

He quickly pulled himself to his feet and staggered outside, yelling at the innkeeper to put his last drinks on his tab as he went.

Gwaine made his way back to the citadel as quickly as he could. For a man as drunk as he was, it was impressive that he made it all the way there without falling over once. Admittedly, the run back took him much longer than it normally would have, and followed a much clumsier trail.

By the time Gwaine reached the courtyard, he was met by the raised eyebrow of an amused Percival. Apparently, the disturbance had already been dealt with when the warning bell sounded. Percival deposited the rouge knight in his room, where he clocked out immediately, despite his mind nudging him all the more insistently that there was something important he was forgetting.

* * *

Arzela watched the citadel quietly from her window. Things seemed to have settled down quickly after the initial bell toll, but that could have meant any number of things.

Throwing a glance over her shoulder at her charge, Arzela thought about what she had learned from her brief brush with the man’s pain. There was no longer any question of who had found out about his magic, no question of what relationship was responsible for his current state.

 _‘The truth of his rejection is written everywhere in his pain, tearing bleeding gashes into his soul.’_ That the unfortunate man had been rejected so harshly for his abilities was depressing to say the least.

The more important thing she had learned though, was that the man was very self-depreciating. Having his hope for the future crushed so cruelly before his very eyes had convinced him that he was a monster, and should never have been alive.

Arzela did not know how to help the man beyond what she had already done, but she did know one thing for certain. This servant, nay, this _man_ , was a man worth any effort to save.

She left the window and walked over to her charge, checking his pulse. Feeling it a little too fast, but still strong, she left the room, heading down to the stables to prepare for their departure first thing in the morning. She needed to get the man to the healers at Vartee, and quickly.


	6. Late Awakening

Gwen was already up and dressed by the time Arthur managed to crawl his way back to consciousness. For one beautiful moment, Arthur was able to believe that all the events of the night before had been one big, horrible dream. That illusion, though, shattered almost as soon as it formed.

“Thank you George, you may go now.”

Arthur sprang up, his heart in his throat as he watched George bow deeply to Gwen before exiting the room backwards. _‘It was no dream. If it was, there would be no reason for George to have been here.’_

Food was laid out on the table, his clothes for the day hanging draped over his changing screen, waiting for him. Gwen was sitting at the their table, moving her breakfast around on her plate, looking like she had absolutely no intention of eating any of it.

“Have you heard anything? Does anyone know where…where Merlin is?”

Gwen looked like she had not been able to get any sleep last night. There were bags under her eyes that stood out like bruises against her dark skin.

She shook her head at him, continuing to push her food around on her plate, utterly uninterested in it. “I haven’t gone to ask anyone about it yet. The few servants I met when I went to find breakfast hadn’t seen him, but that’s not _unusual_. Merlin wouldn’t have been about at that time anyways.”

He moved behind his changing screen and pulled on his clothes for the day while Gwen talked. Arthur wondered exactly how early it had been when Gwen left to find breakfast for them. When he stepped out, he found her still gazing at her plate as if hoping the answers to the whole universe could be found there.

Arthur looked at the plate of food set out for him. He couldn’t even _think_ about eating right now. The mere thought made him queasy.

“Should we go now and talk to Gaius? He’s always up early,” said Gwen still gazing forlornly at her plate. Arthur considered her for a moment as he sat down across form her.

He wanted to go out and hunt for Merlin _right now_ , but was not certain it was the right thing to do. _‘If he was lying low somewhere for the night before going back to Gaius, and we go there right now, we might be able to catch him before he leaves. That is if he hasn’t left already.’_

“I don’t know Guinevere, I want to go right now, and hopefully catch him before he leaves. But I also don’t want to make him feel like he’s being hunted, which makes me want to wait.”

He scrubbed a hand down his face, feeling helpless. _‘No king should ever feel this helpless. But it’s my own fault I do, isn’t it?’_

“I’m worried that something terrible may have happened to him, and that’s why he seems to have just disappeared,” said Arthur quietly.

Gwen reached over and took his hand. “Let’s go and talk to Gaius now. Then we’ll decide what to do.”

Arthur could only nod in agreement.

Arthur and Gwen discussed how they might broach the subject of Merlin and his “talents” with Gaius as they walked towards his tower rooms.

“Guinevere, do you think it might be better if I talk to Gaius alone? He might get more defensive if there are two of us asking about Merlin…”

Arthur wanted to learn as much as he could from the old physician, and he knew that if Gaius thought that Merlin was in danger, he would not be likely to get anything from the old man. A part of him also just didn’t want to have to explain what had happened in front of both Gwen _and_ Gaius. A part of him knew too, that he wouldn’t be able to do this on his own.

Gwen shook her head at Arthur. “I’m not leaving you to do this alone Arthur. I have questions I want answered too,” she said quietly.

As they continued walking, Arthur could not help the swell of affection he felt towards her at that.

Upon reaching their destination, Arthur hesitated outside the door to the physicians chambers.

_‘What if he’s not here? What if I never see him again?’_

So many thoughts and emotions raced themselves around in Arthur’s mind. Here he was, the king of Camelot, stood outside the chamber door of his own courts physician and his personal manservant, afraid to raise his hand and knock on the door. He was afraid of what he might find on the other side, what might not be there. He was afraid, too, of what he would have to tell Gaius if Merlin really was gone.

Gwen took his hand in hers and gave it a gentle squeeze. He glanced back at her, and she gave him the tiniest nod, along with a reassuring smile. Arthur felt a little heartened as he straightened and knocked decisively on the door in front of him.

His stomach continued to squirm unpleasantly as he stood there, waiting. After several moments, the door was thrown open and Gaius peered out almost hopefully. When he caught sight of the two royals in front of him, he started.

“Sire! My Lady! What brings you here at such an early hour of the morning? Are you unwell?”

He moved aside to allow them entrance, leaving the door wide open. Knowing the conversation they were about to have, Gwen closed the door quietly as she entered.

“We’re both fine Gaius…We just wanted to know if Merlin’s turned up yet.”

Gwen had come back over to Arthur, and took his hand again as he spoke, reassuring him with her presence. Arthur thought he had never needed someone’s support more than he did in that exact moment.

His simple question, the tone in which he had asked it, seemed to cause Gaius to pale slightly before their very eyes. _‘Please let Merlin be here. Please let him have at least come home, even if it was just to leave a note.’_

Gaius sat down on a bench next to the table where a cold bowl of soup was still laid out from the night before. He looked so very old and tired in that single moment. “I’m sorry Sire, but I still haven’t seen him. He didn’t come home last night.”

Arthur felt his stomach drop when he heard that.

_‘No, please, where could he have gone? What happened? He wouldn’t leave without at least telling Gaius, he couldn’t have!’_

“Sire, if I might be forward, you are usually much more…aggravated…when Merlin suddenly seems to disappear. Do you know something you have not told me? Did you and Merlin have some type of argument?”

_‘Yes, we had an argument. And then I accused him of being an evil sorcerer plotting against the crown and all of Camelot before throwing him out,’_

Arthur found that his mouth was suddenly very dry, and he couldn’t speak. He reflexively tried to swallow, licking his lips in a vain attempt dampen them when Gwen stepped in.

“Gaius, where might Merlin go if he wanted to be alone, to stay away from everyone else for a while?”

Gaius looked from Arthur to Gwen, taking in the former’s stiff posture and the latter’s nervous fidgeting, confusion written clearly across his face.

“…I have to admit that I do not know my lady,” said Gaius after some hesitation, “Merlin is not usually one to shut himself away when upset.” The old man sighed, rubbing his forehead. There was more in that one small gesture than met the eye, and it did nothing to reassure Arthur of the current state of affairs.

For his part, Arthur was thinking of how often Merlin smiled. He began to wonder. _‘How many times did you hid your pain with that smile Merlin? What happened that you felt the need to hid form your friends?’_

Arthur forcibly pushed away the thought that, perhaps, Merlin had never been fully able to consider them friends at all, too afraid of discovery to be able to consider them such a thing.

“I confess Sire, that I’m confused as to why you have both come here with these specific questions.”

Gaius’ tone was careful, guarded, like he could see, if only distantly, where this conversation might be heading.

Taking a deep breath, Arthur decided that nothing could be gained by them beating about the bush any longer, they needed to just come out and tell Gaius the truth.

_‘Where are you Merlin?’_

“Gaius, you know that there was an intruder found in the citadel last night.”

“…Yes, I do.”

Arthur gripped Gwen’s hand more tightly as he ploughed on. “It wasn’t just an intruder. It was someone come to kill me,” Arthur paused there, watching Gaius’ face pale further, his hands grip his bench in trepidation before Arthur steeled himself to say what he knew he had to. “They had magic. And Merlin saved me, killed the man before he had a chance to harm me.”

“I saw him throw the man across the room, killing him, even though he never touched him.”

“I know that Merlin has magic Gaius, I saw him use it last night when I was about to die, unable to do anything to protect myself. He saved me,”

Gaius’ reaction was immediate and explosive. He lost all the colour his face had left, and recoiled, clutching his heart. It was only because Gwen was able to move fast enough to steady him that Gaius did not fall off his bench and crash to the floor.

“Oh my boy, my stupid, _stupid_ boy,”

“Gaius, we know Merlin’s not a threat,” hurried Gwen as she steadied the old physician, “I promise you, we don’t want to hurt him, we just want to talk.”

“I _knew_ something was wrong last night when you came here looking for Merlin,” moaned Gaius, his head in his hands. Gwen made soothing noises to the physician as she quickly fetched him a cup of water which he clutched in shaking hands.

“Gaius, you have my word. _I will not hurt Merlin_ ,” said Arthur, trying to sound both forceful and comforting at the same time. “But I need to talk to him, and I have no idea where he even is,”

“We didn’t want to send out anyone to look for him last night. We were afraid it might just scare him off,”

Gaius it seemed, was not registering what was being said to him. When he managed to pull himself back together, he glared daggers across at Arthur, pinning the young king with his eyes where he sat. “What have you done to my boy?”

The venom in Gaius’ voice made Arthur flinch. He had never heard the man use such a tone before, ever. Gwen looked just as shocked as he was.

“Nothing! Gaius, I _swear_ , I did not harm him.”

“You rejected him for it though, didn’t you?”

Gaius was still glowering down at Arthur, who opened his mouth, unable to say anything before snapping it shut once again. Arthur continued to flounder like a fish out of water, looking for something to say.

Just as suddenly as it had come, the fight seemed to flee Gaius all at once, and he buried his head in his hands again.

“Oh my poor boy, what have you gotten yourself into now?”

“Gaius?”

The old physician ignored Gwen, turning his fierce gaze towards Arthur once more. “The sorcerer who attacked you, whom Merlin stopped, do you know for sure he was working alone?”

Arthur frowned at the physician, still warry of his hostile gaze.

“…No…There was no one else in the room. And no one came looking for him…and it was some time before I actually called for the guards,”

Gaius slumped against the table, head in his hands again.

“Oh my boy, my poor, stupid, brave boy,”

Arthur and Gwen exchanged worried glances over the back of the distressed physician, utterly at a loss as to what was going on.

* * *

Gwaine groaned pitifully as he rolled over, shielding his eyes from the sharp blade of the suns rays. He felt like a horse had trampled his head. _‘No, I feel like a whole heard of horses is running around in there. And they’re all carrying Percival.’_

Gwaine laid there for several moments longer, wondering why he was so badly hung over this morning, continuing to shield his eyes from the light.

_‘Why am I so hung over? It’s not usually this bad,’_

It was true. Usually he was at least still functional in the mornings after a night out at the tavern. Usually Merlin would drag him back to bed before he had a chance to get himself _too_ drunk.

_‘Wait,…Merlin?...Warning bells…intruder in Arthur’s chambers…’_

“Merlin!”

Gwaine sprang up out of his bed at the exclamation, then hurriedly groped for the support of his bedpost, clutching at his throbbing head.

_‘Where did Merlin go last night? I need to talk to Princess and find out what happened.’_

If only Gwaine was not so late in rising. If only he could think straight, without his head pounding at him. If only his friend was not already gone.


	7. Escape

Arzela was deeply grateful for the fact that she and Tadek had come to Camelot with a horse and cart and the intention of buying a large amount of supplies to take back to Vartee. The cart would be indispensable in getting their injured charge to the mountain city, and the plethora of supplies in various shaped crates, barrels and sacks could easily be arranged in such a way as to hide an injured man from prying eyes. Arzela arranged the barrels around the outside of the cart, placing the softer sacks of grain and other supplies in the centre as a kind of cushioning for what would be a bumpy ride no matter what she did. She saved the longer, thinner packages for latter, as well as the largest square crate.

The cart finished for now, she gathered their beautiful buckskin horse Sable and his tack and harnessed him to the cart. Sable had been trained by the Prana at Vartee, and was as intelligent and dependable a horse as anyone could ever wish for, as all Prana-trained animals always were, provided they had a good master.

Sable seemed to sense that quiet and speed were essential for Arzela, so he stood almost eerily still and silent as he was harnessed and lashed to the cart, ready to go for their departure.

“Good boy Sable,” said Arzela softly, patting the horse’s sandy flank, “Now stay here and stay quiet, we’re heading home with a guest.”

Sable shook his head, turning to look at her, ears flicking around, questioning, but he did not make a sound.

“You’ll see boy, he needs help.”

Sable tilted his head at Arzela as she walked away, but seemed to trust in his master as she left, heading back to her room.

The first thing Arzela did upon returning was check on her charge’s condition. She was relieved to see that the man had not worsened in her absence. In fact, his condition had improved somewhat. He was no longer thrashing about in the bed, but merely flinching occasionally and shifting ever so slightly in his sleep. And his magic did not appear to be pressing against him, seeking an outlet any longer.

Arzela packed her bags, leaving out only what she would need to change the man’s bandages latter in the day, if they were needed. From the cupboard she withdrew a deep indigo cloak and a curved sword in a leather sheath. Strapping on the sword, and throwing the cloak around her shoulders to hid the weapon, she grabbed her packs and brought them down to the stable to store away in the cart.

Arzela pulled out her bedroll and laid it out in the space she had left, using the sack of grain to ensure that the man would have a bed where he would not be in danger of hurting himself, should he begin to thrash about.

That done, she returned again to her room, checking the man’s pulse as she did. Finding it calmer than before, though still a little too fast, she sat back, staring out the window. She needed to move the man to the cart before anyone else had risen for the new day, but she also did not want to move him too early. _‘No matter what precautions I have taken, the fact remains that an actual bed is more comfortable than a bedroll in a cart full of grain sacks.’_ She also had to consider that she needed to stack on the last crates in such a way that hid the man completely. She did not want to do that until the last possible minute.

Thankfully, the sky outside her window was beginning to turn from an inky black to one with the faintest hint of indigo as the day began to approach. Seeing that, Arzela moved to the man on the bed and picked him up, heading for the stable with silent steps.

_‘This man really is too light. He’s awkward for me to carry, but this is not as much of a struggle as I thought it would be.’_

That the man was already so light worried her greatly. _‘We’ll have to stop once we’re far enough out of the city and try to get some food in him.’_ They would also need to check on the swelling and make sure it was not getting any worse.

When Arzela entered the stable carrying the man, Sable turned his head to look at her, taking in the man she was carrying. His ears stayed pointed towards her as she settled the man in the bed she had made.

Happy that her charge would not be jostled too badly by being moved, Arzela stacked up the last of the crates, covering over the gap in the centre of the supplies. She made sure that the man would get enough air, but was careful to conceal the void there.

_‘We can rearrange the supplies once we are out of the line of sight of the city walls. I really hate enclosing the poor man like this, but there’s not much choice.’_

Arzela walked back to Sable and stroked his nose. He pushed against her hand, nuzzling her affectionately as she fed him some oats before their journey.

“You saw how bad he is Sable,” said Arzela softly, “You have to be sure not to jostle him today when we leave. Your in charge of looking after him while I’m gone.”

Sable tilted his head at her, before bobbing it once, a sign that he understood what she was telling him. Arzela smiled softly at Sable before giving him one final pat, and then heading off to go and wake Tadek.

Arzela was pleased that the sky outside had lightened to a deep, dusty blue, the yellow rays of the sun beginning to make themselves known. She banged on Tadek’s door until she heard the faint sounds of a crash and creative cursing from the other side. After a moment, a very disheveled Tadek opened his door, peering out while trying to rub the sleep from his eyes.

“…zela?...s’too early,”

“Yes Tadek,” said Arzela, “It’s early, and we need to be going before the city begins to fully waken.”

Tadek attempted unsuccessfully to stifle a huge yawn. “…why’zat?...”

“Our _guest_ ,” was Arzela’s only reply, putting strong emphasis on the word “guest”.

Tadek seemed to stare at her in bewilderment for a moment before understanding dawned in his eyes. “Oh, that, right.”

“Pack your things and get dressed. When your done, go down to the stable and get Sable with the cart. Everything in already settled. Bring the cart around to the front of the inn.”

“Give my your key now so I can go check us out while you get ready.”

Tadek handed off his key as he closed the door to change and pack. Arzela returned to her room to retrieve the empty water pitcher before heading down the main stairs to the common area and the front desk.

As expected, the innkeeper was already bustling about making breakfast for his patrons, though the rest of his staff seemed to have yet to arrive. Arzela rang the bell on the counter to get the innkeeper’s attention.

“Your certainly an early riser, already heading out then are we?”

“Yes,” said Arzela as she handed over the keys and the empty water jug. “My companion and I have a long way to go, and are eager to get home.”

The innkeeper took back the keys, hanging them from small pegs on the wall and placed the empty jug out of sight below the counter.

“I can understand that,” he said, “I never did catch where you folks were from. Your dressed different from other foreigners I’ve seen.”

Arzela smiled at him rather knowingly. “Yes, we get that a lot. It does not surprise me.”

“So where’re you from?”

“North.”

Arzela’s heard a horse and cart pull up out front of the inn before walking out and joining Tadek in the drivers seat. Once she had climbed up, Tadek leaned in and whispered in her ear. “Where’s the man from last night? I didn’t see him.”

“Good,” said Arzela, glancing back at the cart, “You weren’t supposed to. He’s in the middle in a gap I made when I packed the cart.”

Tadek shook the reigns at Sable to make him move, heading for the main gate of the city. “I guess we’ll unbury him when we get far enough out of the city.”

Arzela nodded as they approached the main gate and the outer walls of Camelot. The guards were only just changing, and the city gate was being opened to allow merchants in and out of the city for the day. In the sleepy confusion of the early morning, no one cast so much as a second glance their way as they trotted out the gates and into the surrounding countryside.

Back at the Rising Sun, the old innkeeper still stood exactly where Arzela had left him, frowning at the door in front of him. As the smell of burning eggs reached him, he snapped out of his daze and returned to his work for the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Hehe, the innkeeper seems to be a little suspicious of Arzela now, doesn’t he? Arzela and Tadek basically just walk out of the city with Merlin in tow while everyone is still asleep. I wonder what everyone will think of Merlin’s disappearance right after he saved the king from an assassination attempt though? And what does the innkeeper think is going on?


	8. Gone or Taken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: DISCLAIMER – this chapter contains quotes from the series, I DO NOT OWN ANTTHING, ALL RIGHTS TO BBC.

Gaius could not help it as he broke down in front of Arthur and Gwen. Neither of them could possibly know how much Merlin had sacrificed for Arthur, for all of them really.

The old man was no fool, and he knew his ward well. At first he had not told Arthur because the young prince would have killed him, but that had ceased to be the real reason astonishingly quickly, even though it never really stopped being a concern. No, Merlin had been adamant in his silence because he knew how much Arthur had cared for his father, and the boy had not wanted to make Arthur choose between his friend and his father.

These days though, Uther was already gone, and Arthur was moving farther and farther away from his influence.

Gaius was certain, Merlin continued to keep his silence because he was afraid of what might happen to the people he cared for if he told them his secret. Everyone Merlin had ever told had died, barring himself and Merlin’s mother.

_‘And even she and I have suffered for his secret, though I would never have blamed him for that. But I still shudder to think what might have happened to him had either of us died then. He would never have forgiven himself. He will probably never forgive himself as it is.’_

Gaius wept openly for his boy who had been forced by biter experience after bitter experience to become a man.

_‘I’m not a monster am I?...Don’t ever think that…then why am I like this? Please, tell me, I need to know…’_

_‘…Do you know how it feels to be a monster? To be afraid of who you are?’_

It had been many years since Merlin had said those things, and much had changed. But Gaius did not believe that Merlin had finally managed to dismiss his self-doubt. The only one who ever doubted the young warlock’s power was himself, after all. No, he still felt that way. He just knew that it was better to keep his thoughts to himself. Had he ever mentioned it, everyone would have shouted him down, pleaded with him not to believe. But believe he did.

_‘And the only thing he ever wanted from anyone was acceptance, from Arthur more than anyone else. And he didn’t get it, Arthur too blinded by his father’s influence and his own pain to see what was happening right in front of him.’_

And where was Merlin now? Gaius would have expected him to come barreling back into the room, ranting that Arthur knew, that he had to go. But he had disappeared. Merlin would not have disappeared without reason.

It had to be about more than his own safety, because the lad never cared about that. Often to Gaius’ great dismay, in fact.

_‘So the only thing this could mean is that he couldn’t come back, because something stopped him.’_

The implications of _that_ were why Gaius could not stop himself from crying. He had heard, once, a long time ago, about connections of magic that could form between people, and what usually happened when those connections broke. Suffice to say that it never ended well. And if it was true, and they couldn’t find Merlin soon, they might not find him alive. His heart would never allow him to turn into something like Morgana. That left death as the only possible outcome.  
If that old story wasn’t true though, and Gaius had never hoped so fervently for something to be a complete fabrication, there was still the possibility that Merlin would start to deny his magic, and die for his troubles.

_‘The one person he wanted acceptance from more than anyone rejected him because of his magic. I hope he does not decide to reject it too,’_

Gaius continued to cry, hoping beyond hope that Merlin was okay.

_‘Even if it was true, why would no one be able to find him?’_

That bit didn’t make any sense. If he was suffering, he would not have gotten very far, and everyone in Camelot at least knew the king’s manservant by sight. Had he been found, he would have been brought to Gaius.

_‘Unless they weren’t from Camelot. Unless he didn’t just disappear, but was taken. Unless that assassin had not been working alone, and his accomplices had learned what had happened, and took Merlin while he was vulnerable.’_

Gaius’ insides turned suddenly to ice. Merlin’s power made him more valuable alive, at least at first. And his grief would make him easy to hold. There were many things that could be done to him. Terrible rituals of the darkest kind of blood magic. Magical restraint, even torture. There would be those who would be furious with him for how he protected the Pendragon line.

_‘Please no, if all the gods in the world can grant him no other mercy in his life, don’t let anyone do that to him.’_

Gaius clutched to the table, gasping for breath, trying to pull himself together. _‘I guess now it is our turn to save Merlin. I just hope we are not too late.’_

* * *

Arthur could do nothing but gape at the old physician as he broke down completely and started sobbing into his table. _‘I have never seen Gaius like this before in my life. I’m not sure anyone has.’_

Guinevere tried in vain to get Gaius to calm down for a good half-hour. But he was completely deaf to the world. The longer Gaius cried, the more Arthur felt his gut clench with dread.

_‘This is not just about Merlin disappearing. I think that, at least, Gaius would understand.’_

Arthur didn’t know what had upset the man so much, but he feared more and more what it meant for Merlin with each passing second.

After what seemed an age, Gaius appeared to be attempting to pull himself together. When he finally managed to control himself and sit up once again, Gwen pushed a steaming cup of freshly made tea into his hands before enveloping the distraught old man into a hug.

“Gaius, I promise. We just want to talk to him. We’re not going to hurt him.”

“He may already be hurt.” Gaius’ tone was thick with tears and desperation, but he was managing to hold most of it back behind his cool physician’s façade, albeit with difficulty.

Arthur’s heart dropped at his words. Gwen looked to him, fear in her eyes as she rubbed soothing circles into Gaius’ back.

“What do you mean?”

“Merlin would not have just disappeared, no matter what had happened,” said Gaius, an edge creeping into his voice again as he addressed Arthur. “He would have come back here, grabbed his things, then left. That this did not happen means that, for whatever reason, he _couldn’t_ come back.”

Gaius drank the scalding tea in his hands, attempting to collect himself. When next he spoke, he sounded rather like he had a sudden cold. “All Merlin ever wanted was to be accepted, and he didn’t get that.” Gaius glared again at Arthur, who just watched him, horrified. “He…he wouldn’t have taken that well.”

Arthur could remember how Merlin had cried, how he had pleaded with him. How limp Merlin had been when he had thrown him out the door.

“Merlin…is more sensitive to the ancient magic of the world. That rejection could’ve…affected…him, made him extremely ill.”

Arthur felt like Gaius was not telling them the whole story. He made it sound almost like if Merlin had been affected, he could’ve been more than just “ill”. _‘Could it have killed him?’_

Arthur broke out into a cold sweat under Gaius’ glare. _‘No, nonononono…’_

Gwen was biting her lip, trying to keep herself from crying, but the tears were still forming in her eyes.

“But I’m not even sure such a thing is possible. Although, Merlin has always been the exception to the rules.”

“What I fear more is that he has not disappeared from his own efforts, but was taken. If that assassin was not working alone, his accomplices could have learned what had happened, and taken Merlin. _Especially_ if they suspected his magic.”

Gwen was breathing heavily, clutching the table herself now for support.

“…What would they want with him?” Arthur hated himself for having to ask, but he needed to know.

_‘This is my fault, if I hadn’t…if I had just listened, maybe none of this would be happening.’_

“Other magic users would likely feel that he had betrayed his own kind in protecting the Pendragon household.”

“They…they wouldn’t,” stammered Gwen looking very green.

“No, they wouldn’t. Merlin is powerful enough that he would be more useful to them alive…And, grieving and broken, he wouldn’t likely be hart to hold onto.”

Arthur was halfway to the door before Gaius’ voice reached him again. “Where are you going?”

“To find him,” _‘Before they can do anything terrible to him.’_

Gaius did not stop him.

Arthur hurried down the castle corridor. _‘Gwaine, I need to find Gwaine. He’d tare the whole kingdom apart to find Merlin. And I will too.’_ The fact that Merlin had kept his secret for so long was not the issue anymore. This was about making sure no one hurt him for it. _‘At least not any more than I already have.’_

* * *

Gaius continued to stare at the door long after Arthur had disappeared from the room.

Gwen could not fathom what the old man was thinking from his expression. He had been so angry with Arthur upon learning that he had rejected Merlin for his magic. That suggested he had known all along. It also suggested that there was a lot they still did not know about.

_‘Not that Merlin really would have been able to hide from him. Gaius is too shrewd for that. And Merlin would have needed at least one confidant just to stay sane.’_

“Gaius,” asked Gwen quietly, gaining the man’s attention as he slumped over the table with his cup of tea. “What did you mean when you said that Merlin was always the exception to the rules?”

Gaius scrutinized her for several long moments. Gwen shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, but did not break eye contact with him. “Merlin…is not like other magic users you have met.”

“I know,”

Gwen was thinking of his many goofy smiles, of how willing he was to help everyone no matter the cost to himself.

Gaius however, shook his head. “It is not just that he uses his magic to defend and protect where others use it to reap destruction and murder.”

“He’s a warlock, not a sorcerer.”

Gwen fiddled with a lose splinter at the edge of the table. “I don’t know what that means.”

“It means he was born with magic.”

Gwen looked up at Gaius. “People can be born with magic?”

“Yes,” sighed the old man, “It happens, but it’s rare. It was rare even before Uther’s purge of magic. And during the purge, any child born with magical talent was an easy target for Uther and his men.”

Gwen felt sick to her stomach. She couldn’t quite believe that someone could be so ruthless. But then, she had seen how blind magic had made Uther. He threw all logic and reason out the window the second the word “magic” was even hinted at.

“So people can be born with magical talent, and Merlin was?”

Gaius nodded absently.

“But Merlin is an unusual case, even for a warlock.”

“How is that?”

“Usually magic lays dormant inside a warlock or witch, coming out latter in life. They grow into their abilities with time as they grow stronger, but they can not usually do magic without studying it except during times of great distress, when they are particularly angry or scared.”

“And Merlin?”

“He was able to use magic almost from the moment of his birth. It was instinctive for him, often happening even without him meaning too in everyday situations.”

“If you had asked me whether that were possible before I had met him, I would have told you it wasn’t, laughed at the mere idea of it. But then a bumbling fool named Merlin came charging into my chambers, and saved my life with magic without so much as a single word, and barely even a thought.”

“How – ”

“I was on the balcony looking for a book when the railing broke and I fell. Before I had even hit the ground, Merlin had moved my bed under me to break the fall.”

“…So you knew right from the start.”

“I knew about Merlin long before he ever came to Camelot. Not that I ever understood until he came here. Hunith is my sister, and I was the only one she knew who had studied magic. So when Merlin was born and showed signs of it, I received a frantic letter from her, asking what she could possibly do to protect him.”

“Why did he ever come to Camelot? Wouldn’t he have been safer in Ealdor? Cenrid had never outlawed magic,”

“You’ve been to Ealdor Gwen. It was such a small village. That Merlin was different was never a secret there. In Ealdor, Merlin had no outlet for his abilities, no way to learn control other than what he could figure out for himself. And as he grew, so did his powers. If he had stayed, his magic would have been found out. He wouldn’t have been able to control it. And Ealdor was not so far away from Camelot and it’s hatred of magic. Yes, it was dangerous for him to come to Camelot, but it was more dangerous for him to stay where he was.”

Gwen was silent for a long time. She had never thought about it before, but when they had all gone to Ealdor with Merlin, he had not really interacted with anyone outside of their little group, which at the time had included Hunith, his mother, and Will, his friend.

She could see the other villagers not wanting their children to spend too much time with a strange little boy who always seemed to be around when odd things happened.

_‘He would have been noticed, people would have questioned. It would have been much easier, by comparison, to be in a large city where everyone just assumed it was a strange quirk of his character. That is, after all, what I had thought it was at the time.’_

“Do you really think someone would have kidnapped him?” asked Gwen quietly.

Gaius ran his fingers along the rim of his teacup looking drawn. “…I don’t think it would be the first time,” he said. “Not that I’ve ever been able to get him to tell me the whole story,”

“This is just the first time Merlin might not _want_ to save himself, even if he is able to.”

Gwen wrapped Gaius in a hug as he sat mutely at the table, eyes unfocussed.

_‘I hope he’s okay, I hope that wherever he is, he’s in safe hands.’_


	9. Never Again

As soon as the white towers of Camelot were hidden by the forms of hills and trees, Arzela had them stop. Going around to the cart, she and Tadek began moving the crates concealing the void where their charge had been hidden.

“I think we should put up something to keep the sun off him. We don’t want to add exposure to the elements to the poor man’s list of problems,”

“That’s a good idea. But let’s move the crates first. I’d prefer it if his screen was not made of objects that could crush him if they fell.”

The two friends worked to rearrange their cargo, taking out their charge and laying him gently on the grass next to the cart while they did so. They moved the supplies to one side of the cart, stacking them up and making sure that they wouldn’t fall out or topple over while they were traveling. That done, Arzela and Tadek set out a bedroll in the empty space they had left open. Settling the man in the cart once again, they used a spare blanket as an awning to shade him from the sun.

Arzela checked on the man’s condition as Tadek headed for the drivers seat. Once he had climbed up, ready to set out, he turned to look back at Arzela.

“Are you going to come up front, or stay back there with him?” asked Tadek, Sable’s reigns in hand.

Arzela looked up from the man’s neck where she was feeling for his pulse. “I think I’ll stay back here. We need to be moving again. We don’t want to be caught by a patrol after all this.”

Tadek nodded then faced forwards, flicking the reigns and clucking at Sable to get them moving.

 _‘Whatever force started helping him last night has almost brought him back to awareness,’_ thought Arzela as she watched the man mumble absently under his breath. _‘I hope this marks a turning point for him, though I know he will still need a lot more time and care before he is truly well again.’_

At least they had a chance. Against all odds, the man had lived through that first, horrible night, and was actually doing well, all things considered. Arzela felt hopeful that the man could truly recover, not just survive, and it was a beautiful thing to consider. If only she had known.

* * *

Merlin could feel nothing other than a white-hot pain coursing through his whole body, but somehow he was oddly separated from it.

He was not awake, no, that would have come with awareness of the wider world. Here, there was no world outside the gashes he felt, still oozing blood from the very core of his being. He existed in that pain for a long while, not able to think, just able to feel that deep-seated _wrongness_ and pain. But after a long time, several lifetimes perhaps, the pain receded, or at least was isolated from what senses he still had left.

_‘Am I dead?’_

He could think again, in the space between the pain and his awareness that had formed, it seemed.

_‘No, this is different, not death. Not yet.’_

_‘Healing,’_

But did he want to heal? What would healing mean? There was something he had lost. _‘Something important. Something that explained the pain.’_

Some part of him was happy in his strange, isolated bliss, with the pain being pushed away. But the further away the pain got, the more he could think, the more he remembered.

_‘Sorcerer…monster…Emrys…’_

No, that was wrong, wasn’t it? He was trying to remember something, someone maybe? Or was it different from that?

 _‘There,’_ he thought, _‘something is pushing the pain away.’_ But what was that something, he wondered? It felt oddly familiar, a push against his mind he had felt before. Where had that push come from? Or rather, who?

 _‘Merlin!’_ The pressure came again, calling a name.

_‘Why that name? Is it a name?’_

It meant something to him, but what?

_‘Merlin,’_

Suddenly a dam opened up, a warmpth flooded his body, comforting, familiar. The pain cringed in the face of the warmpth, shrinking in on itself, getting smaller, being pushed farther away. But that warmpth also brought back the truth.

_‘You do not belong here…sorcerer…monster…’_

_‘No!’_

It was magic! The magic he shouldn’t have. The thing that poisoned his very being, made him deadly to all who knew of him.

_‘No! It’s not true…Merlin!...’_

The pressure in his mind returned, more insistent now. But it was warm too.

_‘It’s part of the magic!’_

_‘No…I don’t want it…wrong…it’s wrong…not allowed…monster…sorcerer…all wrong…’_

_‘No Merlin! You must accept it! You must!’_

But could he, could he really?

_‘Wrong…all wrong…I don’t want it…take it back…no more…never again…NO MORE!’_

With a massive effort, he pushed the warmpth away, shoved it into a locked box in the darkest recesses of his mind. And the pressure, the pressure that spoke, he pushed that away too. He pushed it out, it was foreign, wrong, an invader.

_‘It doesn’t belong,’_

He felt the pressure retaliate, insistent as it tried to speak to him again, but he would not be moved. It went away, and no sooner had it left than the pain crashed back down on him, relentless and unforgiving, and all the worse now for having been coed even just a little.

_‘It’s my punishment, my do.’_

He would be swallowed by it, destroyed. But it was right, proper. No more than he deserved.

* * *

_‘No Merlin, don’t! Let us in! MERLIN!’_

Kilgharrah’s eyes snapped open as his mind was forced back into his own body. He laid there, disoriented for several moments, assaulted by everything the senses of his body were telling him. He could feel his bones ache, heard his muscles creak as he tried to lift his head off the ground.

But he had fed too much of his strength to the young warlock, and his muscles gave out on him. His head crashed to the ground again, smoke unfurling from his nostrils in his agitation and fear.

Beside him, little Aithusa uncurled her own sore body and staggered almost drunkenly to her feet. She tottered for a moment before falling over onto her side, one wing beneath her, gazing up at her larger kin a little cross-eyed.

_‘What…daddy?’_

Merlin had begun to regain consciousness due to their help, Kilgharrah knew, but that meant he had recognized them in his mind. Recognized magic.

_‘…no more…never again…’_

Kilgharrah had heard those words echo from the young warlock’s mind before being pushed out and cut off from his dragon lord. He had pushed his magic away too, knowing it had something to do with why he was in pain.

 _‘If Merlin keeps his magic locked away for too long, it will cause him to waste away,’_ thought Kilgharrah, desperation spiking through his insides.

The dragon tried to lift his head again, to stretch out a wing, _something_. But his old body hardly responded to him, his muscles only twitching in response. More smoke unfurled from his nostrils in his agitation, but he could hardly do anything about it now.

They had been managing to help, but they had done so by isolating Merlin from his pain. That was why they had failed, why Merlin had eventually realized and pushed them out.

_‘We were not actually healing him of anything, only offering false promises.’_

At least that is what Merlin’s tortured mind had felt.

 _‘I can’t help him,’_ realized Kilgharrah, his heart sinking. _‘I reaped bitterness into our past, broke his trust,’_

_‘Merlin will never be able to rely on me for any true healing in his soul. I hurt him too much for that. I used him, and in my own mindless rage I only succeeded in adding to his already too heavy burdens.’_

It was a difficult truth for the old dragon to swallow, but he knew he could not deny it. What Merlin needed now, more than anything else in the world, was a soul-deep connection with someone. One that was still completely pure, untouched by grief, guilt, distrust, fear, anger, anything. It had to be pure love and affection, and Kilgharrah’s past actions had ensured that his connection to the warlock would just not be good enough.

 _‘Aithusa,’_ called out Kilgharrah, getting the young dragon’s attention as she got clumsily to her feet again.

She chirruped quietly to show that she had heard.

_‘Can you fly?’_

The little dragon tilted her head, radiating tiredness like his own. But she was younger, so much younger. She tested her wings, giving them a few harsh flaps. When she didn’t fall over, she chirruped at him again, showing affirmation, but questioning.

 _‘Go to Merlin,’_ said Kilgharrah, pushing his thoughts towards the younger dragon. _‘Find Merlin, and help him. Bring him out of his grief. Show him…show him that you need him. Show him that he needs magic, and that you need him,’_

_‘Bring him out of his despair, Aithusa…save him.’_

The little dragon rumbled deep in her chest, trying to sound strong, determined. Kilgharrah’s lips twitched upwards at the display.

_‘Go, find him. Save him.’_

Aithusa hobbled over to Kilgharrah, nuzzling him for a moment, trying to offer comfort, then turned on her hind legs, and took off into the air. She flew lover and slower than he would have liked, but at least she was in the air and moving, which was more than he could manage at the moment.

As he watched her disappear from his line of sight, Kilgharrah only hoped that no patrols or stray humans happened upon him with the state he was in. He did not fancy having to play dead. _‘And even less would I enjoy being dead. If nothing else, that would likely only add to Merlin’s already crushing guilt.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: I’m so evil, “Merlin’s getting better!” *rips the rug right out from under the characters* “Nope!”  
> I promise he’ll get better, I really, really do!  
> Anyways, what did you guys think of Merlin’s POV in this chapter? I was feeling a little starved for his thoughts on everything at this point in the story. Please review and let me know what you think! I’d love to get your feedback.


	10. Mercy

By the time Arthur reached Gwaine’s chambers, the sun had risen high enough in the sky to have moved on from morning into the day.

Arthur raised his hand to knock on the door when it flew open, revealing what looked like a very hung over Gwaine. Arthur blinked at Gwaine stupidly a couple of times, arm still raised, before he lowered his hand.

_‘Did Merlin come to Gwaine last night? Is that why he’s more hung over than usual this morning?’_

_‘Please let Gwaine know where he is, let him know_ something _.’_

“Princess! Just who I was going to look for. Wouldn’t happen to know where Merlin is would you?”

Arthur’s frail hopes crashed down around him. _‘So Gwaine knows nothing, just like all the rest of us.’_ He also clearly didn’t know what Arthur had done. _‘He would not have greeted me this cheerfully if he did.’_

Before Arthur answered Gwaine, he pushed the rouge knight backwards into his room and shut the door with a snap.

“Oi! No need to get pushy Princess, just ‘cause Merlin’s more fun than you,” said Gwaine with his rakish grin in place despite his hangover.

“Gwaine, Merlin’s missing.”

All humour rapidly fell away from Gwaine as he gapped at Arthur. He appeared to struggle to throw off the foggy after-effects of alcohol from his brain, straightening as he did so.

“What do you mean? Missing how?”

“You were probably too drunk last night to remember,” said Arthur, a distinct hint of disapproval in his voice, “But there was an intruder discovered in the citadel last night.”

“I know about the intruder,” snapped Gwaine, “He was dealt with before I even had a chance to do anything, as I recall. What’s this got to do with Merlin?”

Gwaine looked like an angry tiger, poised to strike as he stood there, hand clutching his sword hilt.

“It wasn’t just an intruder. It was an assassin come to kill me, that’s what.”

Gwaine narrowed his eyes at the king. “What are you trying to say Arthur?”

 _‘What am I trying to say?’_ questioned Arthur. If he told Gwaine what _really_ happened, it would not end well. Gwaine might not care about the magic, but then again, he had rushed magic users before in blind range with the intent to kill. That usually ended with him being thrown back by magic and knocked unconscious. But Merlin wouldn’t be likely to hurt Gwaine, even if the man threatened him. _‘Which is probably not very likely, come to think of it. Gwaine was Merlin’s friend first. It was Merlin who proved to Gwaine that I was someone worth following.’_ That thought left a bitter-sweet taste in Arthur’s mouth.

“It was Merlin who stopped the assassin, killed him before he had a chance to do any real damage. Gaius hasn’t seen Merlin since yesterday morning. He thinks that the assassin might not have been working alone, and that his accomplices may have found out what happened, and taken Merlin.”

“Merlin’s not that helpless. How could someone have taken his so easily?”

“…They had magic Gwaine…”

The knight hissed angrily, looking murderous. “Great, so you’ve attracted another evil sorcerer, and his friends might have Merlin. Just great!”

Despite everything, Arthur felt a stab of annoyance. The sorcerer wasn’t _his_ fault. _‘Everything else might be, but the sorcerer wasn’t.’_

“We don’t know anything for certain,”

Gwaine stepped unnervingly close to Arthur, who felt he deserved the man’s anger, and so much more. But he didn’t back down.

“You wouldn’t be here if you thought anything different,” said Gwaine. “And we _do_ know that Merlin would literally throw himself at death itself for you, don’t we?”

Arthur’s heart skipped a beat as he remembered an unnatural cold followed by a blood curdling scream.

“That’s why I’m here,” said Arthur, gritting his teeth in frustration. “We have to find him before anything happens.”

“Did you see anything last night at the tavern? Anyone suspicious at all?”

There was a long moment of silence. “Think Gwaine! Think!”

Gwaine frowned, rubbing his head. “I don’t know, maybe?...Bah! I can’t thin straight with this stupid headache.”

“Talk to Percival, he was there with me last night. He’ll want in on finding Merlin too.”

Gwaine made to leave the room, but Arthur grabbed hold of his arm, stopping him. “We need to keep this quiet Gwaine. If someone dangerous did take Merlin, we don’t want them getting wind of the fact we’re onto them.”

A determined gleam in his eye, Gwaine nodded before heading off to Gaius for a headache cure. _‘Hopefully Gwaine will have the presence of mind to tread carefully with Gaius right now.’_ In the meantime, Arthur went to find Percival. He had some questions he needed answers to.

* * *

Arzela and Tadek were making good time as they headed homewards.

Arzela sat in the cart, watching over her charge as they moved. He had started the day looking almost well, but as the sun climbed higher in the sky, the poor man’s condition seemed to take a drastic downwards turn. He began shifting around in his coverings, his movements graduating from uneasy to frantic as she watched.

Without warning, his whole body tensed and a scream escaped his lips. Arzela could have sworn that the words “no more!” had existed somewhere in that agonized sound. Up front, Sable stomped his feet, snorting uneasily as he suddenly stopped, shifting restlessly. Tadek nearly fell out of the drivers seat as he jumped, fumbling the reigns before dropping them, looking around, eyes wild.

Arzela grabbed hold of the man’s shoulders as he began to flail, bruising bony limbs on the side of the cart. He was struggling to breathe, sucking in air around frantic moans of agony.

“Tadek! Help me get him down, NOW!”

Her friend jumped up, looking disturbed as he did what she asked. It was difficult to move the struggling man out of the cart and onto the soft grass at the roadside, but they managed it.

“Get me the stone from my bag.”

“Why is this happening?” asked Tadek while he dove for Arzela’s pack, digging furiously thought it. “He was getting better.”

“He was,”

Arzela worked quickly to pull away the bandaging from the man’s shoulder. What she saw nearly made her heart stop. Not only were the red lines of swollen flesh worse than they had been that morning, they were worse than they had been even in that dark alley. _‘Good lord, how did this happen?’_

Tadek ran up with the stone still wrapped as Arzela pulled the man’s red shirt off to get a better look at his arm and chest. The red lines had crawled their way down the man’s whole arm, circling it in a net of pain. The whole side of his neck was swollen too, and the veins were crawling quickly across his throat and chest.

_‘No, he can’t die on us now!’_

“Hand me the stone, and hold him.”

Tadek passed the wrapped stone over before taking hold of the thrashing man himself. Arzela quickly unwrapped the stone, holding onto it with the cloth before placing it against the man’s shoulder, helping hold him with her other hand.

He screamed as the stone made contact, but unlike the night before, he kept on screaming. He thrashed violently in their hands. It was all they could do just to hold him. Arzela did not take the stone off the man’s shoulder the whole time.

_‘There better not be anyone else nearby. It’ll look like we’re killing him in some stupid dark ritual or something.’_

The man’s struggling only increased in intensity as the sound was finally chocked off. He started whimpering instead, panting for breath. “…don’t want it…no more…no more…take it…no more…” There was no end to the man’s suffering.

Tadek couldn’t seem to decide where he wanted his eyes to rest. They kept flicking back and forth between Arzela and the man struggling beneath their grasp.

 _‘He’s going to die,’_ thought Arzela. She wondered if there was any way to end his pain. She could only think of one thing though, and she was loath to do it.

_‘The stone won’t be able to save him now, he’s too far gone.’_

Arzela dropped the stone from her hand, letting it fall into the grass, locking eyes with Tadek. He understood. They both knelt there in the cool grass, the sun beading down on them as a cruel wind blew past, holding the man as he began screaming again.

Arzela contemplated drawing her sword and ending it quickly, the only mercy she could offer the poor man now. But before she could make her decision, they heard the terrified screech of some creature from above them.

* * *

Arthur could not shake the feeling that something terrible was happening to Merlin, _right now_. The longer he remained in Camelot, trying to sort everything out and figure out if Merlin was even still in the city, the firmer the hold a cold dread had on his heart.

Inwardly cursing his stupid temper that had caused all this, Arthur sped up his pace. He strode quickly towards the training grounds, where he thought it most likely to find Percival.

He didn’t run exactly. King’s don’t run. They walked with purpose, and that was what Arthur was doing. _‘Even if that purpose is to stave off the inevitable worry and yes, fear that keeps trying to assault me.’_

When Arthur emerged onto the training field, he spotted Percival sparring with Elyan. Leon was watching over the training of some new recruits who had yet to be knighted, but were eager to learn and serve in the aftermath left by Morgana’s recent occupation of the city.

When Leon saw Arthur, he dismissed his recruits and made his way over to his liege, following Arthur’s silent signal as he approached Percival and Elyan.

Just as Arthur walked up, Percival dealt a handy blow to Elyan, knocking him off balance enough for the larger man to push him into the dirt. Elyan grumbled for several heartbeats before breaking out into a grin and laughing along with Percival as the larger man offered him a hand up. Leon walked up next to Arthur, waiting.

Arthur wondered just how he really wanted to approach the problem of finding Merlin. _‘If I just give the order for a search to be mounted, and Merlin is just hiding out until things cool down, I’ll scare him off. If someone has taken him, they’ll instantly know that their covers blown, and will disappear along with him.’_

_‘I have to limit the number of people who know about this.’_

“Percival, Elyan, I need a word with you both.”

Both knights glanced at each other, looking confused.

Beside him, Leon spoke up. “Sire, is something wrong?”

“Not here,” hissed Arthur under his breath. “Come with me, all of you.”

With varying looks of curiosity and concern, the three knights followed Arthur to the armoury. Arthur checked the hall outside before he closed the door and turned to face his most trusted knights.

“What’s going on Arthur?” asked Elyan when Arthur turned to face them.

“You all know that there was an assassination attempt made on me last night, and that Merlin stopped it, yes?”

Each of the three knights looked at one another before nodding.

The ever-quiet Percival once again showed his ability to see more than you might have expected him too. “Where is Merlin?”

“That’s the problem, I don’t know.”

Percival and Elyan visibly tensed. Leon just stated at him.

“What do you mean, you don’t know? Where would he have gone?”

“It was Merlin who killed the assassin before he managed to do any damage.” _‘At least physical damage anyway,’_ “Since last night, I haven’t seen him. Neither has Gaius.”

“Merlin didn’t come home last night. He’s just disappeared.”

“Are you saying that you think this assassin had accomplices, and they took Merlin for what he did?”

“Yes, that’s what I’m saying. It’s what Gaius thinks has happened.” _‘It’s what Gaius hopes has happened. The lesser of two evils, it would seem.’_

All three men looked deeply concerned by what Arthur was telling them. There was also a steely glint in their eyes. _‘If someone did take Merlin, they must have reckoned without the knights of Camelot. They’re in for a rude surprise when we catch up with them.’_

“Percival, you were out with Gwaine at the tavern last night. Did you see anything suspicious, anyone acting strangely?”

Percival looked thoughtful for a moment, as everyone turned to him. “…There was one thing. At some point last night a strange looking foreigner came rushing into the tavern looking for his companion, a woman with a grave look in her eye. He seemed very reluctant to explain his outburst to her when he noticed everyone there watching him. But that was quite a while before the warning bell rang.”

“That can’t have anything to do with Merlin’s disappearance then. Not if it happened _before_ the attack on Arthur.”

“…The warning bell was not rung immediately, it was actually rung quite a bit _after_ the attack.”

Everyone turned to look at him.

“But, you didn’t have a mark on you, the assassin never managed to do any harm. Why would you have waited to sound the warning bell?”

Arthur considered his answer carefully before he gave it. “…the assassin had magic,” tense hands gripped the hilts of swords, “It stands to reason his friends might have it too.”

Leon looked very confused all of a sudden. “How did Merlin stop him from hurting you then?”

“…I guess Merlin just got lucky that the sorcerer underestimated him.” _‘That much is probably more true than even I realize, actually.’_

Elyan snorted at his comment. “Did he actually expect _Merlin_ to just stand there and do nothing?”

“Most servants probably would have,” said Leon reasonably, “Or they would have tried to run away.”

“Merlin wouldn’t run away.”

 _‘I have never hoped for a statement to be wrong as much as right now,’_ thought Arthur, going over the alternatives for explaining Merlin’s absence. _‘But Percival has always had the uncanny knack for saying only what is most important, and true.’_

“Percival, I want you to pick up Gwaine from Gaius’ – He went looking for a headache cure – and go to the lower town. Head to the tavern to find out what you can about these two strangers. If you don’t learn anything there, search the town and see if you can’t find some trace of Merlin. Leon, Elyan, I want you to search the citadel for him.”

“I need to talk to Gaius,” added Arthur as an afterthought.

“If anyone finds Merlin, make sure to bring him back to Gaius where we know he’s safe. Report anything else you find straight to me. I’ll either be with Gaius or in my chambers.”

Everyone nodded, looking determined to find their missing comrade.

 _‘Merlin’s almost like a little brother to all the knights,’_ thought Arthur. _‘If he’s still here, we’ll find him. And if he’s not, we’ll get him back. I’ll get him back.’_

“I’ll alert the guards and have a search mounted right away Sire.”

“No Leon, no guards. If someone dangerous really has taken Merlin in retaliation for what happened last night, I don’t want them realising that we’re hunting for them. Two Camelot knights alone would go unnoticed, but the whole of the guard searching the citadel wouldn’t.”

The eyes of all the knights hardened, understanding what Arthur wanted, what they needed to do. “No one else can know about this. We have to be careful.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: That last scene between Arthur and the Knights was more difficult than I thought it would be to write. I kept needing somebody to say something, and then be all “who said this again?” By the end of it, I had figured out Leon’s voice, but I’m still foggy on Percival and Elyan. Grr.  
> I’m so terrible to Merlin, but AITHUSA TO THE RESCUE! (please tell me I’m not the only one who thinks that’s adorable)  
> Anyways, how do you think I did with the Knights? Let me know, all comments welcome! Please read & review!


	11. Light in the Darkness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: DISCLAIMER – this chapter contains a line of dialogue from 1x05. ALL RIGHTS TO BBC

Merlin was drowning in his pain, sinking deeper and deeper below it’s surface. Soon, the darkness and the pressure would crush him. Soon he would finally find release from the pain. It would finally be over.

_‘Soon no one will have to suffer because of me, because of my magic, ever again.’_

That thought only made it hurt more, pushing him deeper under the surface.

_‘It’s almost over now.’_

But then, suddenly, for some reason, he stopped sinking, held in place by something. He felt the weight press down on him, insistent, angry that he had stopped his descent into the darkness. The pain _wanted_ him to sink, but something else wanted him to rise above it just as much. He was stuck in limbo, teetering on the brink. If he strayed just a little, he would fall and be lost forever.

He was surrounded by a darkness so deep it pressed against your eyes, if he even still had eyes for it to press against. But there was a spear of light trying to reach him. He cringed away from the light, so bright it was blinding, and slipped by just a few hairsbreadths farther down.

The light drew closer, searching for him, for his core, trying to reach out. Calling to him. He felt concern, even fear coming from the light. It was fear for him, and it called to him, silently pleading without words for him to respond.

The light encircled him, pushing him upwards by just a few hand’s-breadths, closer to the surface. The pain pressed down harder.

It was then he noticed the warmpth that encircled him.

_‘…magic…’_

He wanted to panic. He wanted to lash out and push it away, but he couldn’t. All around him there was a sense of some presence. Pure and sweet and full of happiness and light. And despite himself, he felt drawn to it, as if it were kin somehow.

He began to feel the light seep along some connection into his soul, the only real thing he was aware of any more. He wanted to push it away, to struggle, to throw if off, but it just slipped through whatever feeble defence he managed to throw up around himself.

A soft voice, scared and sad reverberated from the light. _‘…Daddy…’_

_‘Daddy?’_

No, that wasn’t right, not right at all. He definitely wasn’t that to anyone. He tried to push harder on the light, wanting it away from him.

_‘…leave me alone…’_

It spoke sadly to him again, trying to reach out. _‘Merlin…’_

That meant something different. He stilled his frightened resistance, pain pressing down harder, trying to force him beyond the encompassing light. But the light held him steady. It would not let go. It was worried for him. Just for him. He could feel that worry radiating from it’s depths.

_‘Merlin…Dragon lord…my dragon lord…’_

Dragon lord? But that meant magic. He couldn’t touch magic, not any more.

_‘…You must,’_

_‘…no…dangerous…hurts people…won’t…’_

_‘…you must…’_

He could feel where his own warmpth was locked away. It rattled angrily inside it’s little box prison at the back of his mind. He could sense how the warmpth in that box wanted to escape and join the light. But he could not let it.

_‘…You must…’_

_‘I won’t…’_

_‘Please,’_

The sorrow and pain that radiated from the light was almost enough to break him, but at the same time, it was also almost enough to save him. He felt himself inch several feet closer to the surface, the pain pushing back, but loosing it’s grip on him.

 _‘Why magic?’_ he thought, projecting it at the light. _‘Magic is death…destruction…pain…’_

_‘No,’_

The light shook with the word, wanting him to understand. _Needing_ him to understand.

 _‘No light without magic…no dragons without you…want you safe…_ need _you safe…’_

_‘Why me?...It hurts everyone…it kills them all…one by one…’_

_‘No,’_ the light pleaded with him.

It did not push at him, but it called to him, asking him to come closer. He rose just a little further.

_‘…others hurt them…you protect…always protect…’_

_‘But then I always fail…’_

_‘Not failure…their choice…’_

_‘…then it’s my choice to stop…’_

The light felt as if it began to weep for him. He didn’t want to hurt it, he felt akin to it somehow. He wanted it to be safe, happy, secure. He rose once again, just a few feet below the surface now. The locked box of warmpth in his mind rattled just a little harder, the lock beginning to slip ever so slightly.

_‘…but I need you…my dragon lord…and you need it…’_

_‘Please daddy…_ please _…accept.’_

He felt his heart cry out. The box burst open and the warmpth rushed to embrace the light. It jumped up, enveloping the warmpth which began to radiate with such a deep, true joy. The pain fled in the face of the united light and warmpth, finally allowing him to break through the surface. If he could have gasped for air, he would have. He rode the joy of the light on the surface of the pain, which still tugged at him faintly.

A door opened in his soul, unlocked as the light and warmpth met, united once again. He felt a presence walk through the door, out of the light.

_‘Aithusa,’_

He knew now, what the light was. The little white dragon, the hope of Albion, _‘The light of the sun.’_

_‘Daddy!’_

_‘…I’m sorry…it just hurts, so much…’_

_‘I’m here.’_

The pain was still present, but he felt the warmpth of his magic flow through his soul like blood. It would search out the pain. Heal it, push it away.

_‘Don’t leave Aithusa, please.’_

_‘I won’t.’_

Whatever awareness this was, it left him then.

* * *

When Gwaine reached the physician’s chambers, he pushed the door open to find Gaius slumped over his table looking utterly spent. Gwen was sitting next to him rubbing circles into the old man’s back as she murmured words of comfort in his ear.

_‘If I needed any confirmation that Merlin really is in serious trouble, I just found it.’_

Gwaine cleared his throat to let the pair know he was there, wincing slightly at the loud noise. Both Gaius and Gwen nearly jumped out of their skins at the sound. Gaius managed to pull himself together as he sat up and lock most of his worry away behind his cool physician’s mask as he turned. Gwen was much less successful at hiding her own worry. As she turned, he could see that her eyes were red and slightly puffy, and she was biting her lip in concern.

“Gwaine! What can I do for you?”

Gwaine stood there for a moment, studying the pair before him. “Arthur told me what happened with Merlin.”

Interestingly, the two turned to look at one another, their faces almost more frightened than before.

“What did Arthur tell you exactly?”

“That Merlin’s missing,” he paused watching as Gaius and Gwen seemed to relax slightly, “That he was taken.”

“Yes, I’m almost certain of it,” Gwaine hand never heard the old man sound so, _tired_.

Unbidden, his mind began to wander. _‘Even if these people were pissed at Merlin for killing their buddy, why would they kidnap him rather than just kill him?’_ He thought that was exactly what weighed so heavily on Gaius at the moment.

“Did you…did you just come here to see for yourself if he really was gone?” asked Gwen to fill the heavy silence that permeated the room.

Gwaine’s rakish grin was a little strained, even as it appeared naturally. “Not exactly. I find myself in need of a headache cure, as ordered by the Princess, too.”

Gwaine became subject to Gaius’ infamous eyebrow as the elder man hummed amusedly, standing up.

“From too long a night at the tavern I presume?”

Gwaine just shrugged, then winced as the physician moved off to make him his cure, clinking various glass vials together.

Gwen continued siting at the table, gazing at her hands and fidgeting nervously.

_‘Well I can’t leave these two like this,’_

“My Lady,” said Gwaine in an uncharacteristically serious tone.

Gwen looked up at him, and Gaius froze on the other side of the room, his back facing them, listening.

“We’ll bring him home,” he said quietly.

Gwaine knew that Merlin and Gwen were close friends, that she was like a sister to him, and he a brother to her. He also knew, had seen just how close the relationship between Gaius and Merlin was. He was speaking to both of them, giving them a silent promise.

Gwen smiled weakly at him, her eyes wet again. “I know you will.”

She dropped her eyes back to her hands. Gaius continued moving about the room, making Gwaine’s remedy. Gwaine couldn’t help but feel like she didn’t believe her last statement. _‘Why do I get the sense that I’m missing something important here?’_

Gwaine’s musings were cut off as Gaius bustled over with a cup of some remedy in his hand.

“Don’t look at it, don’t smell it, just down it in one.” The phrase lacked the humour it might otherwise have held.

True to form, Gwaine took the cup and chugged the slightly lumpy liquid within in one go. He let a disgusted groan escape his lips once the cup was empty, but then straightened up as the ringing hammer and anvil in his head receded to the back of his mind, then disappeared.

“Better?”

Gwaine beamed at the old man, feeling his brain finally settle, allowing his jumbled thoughts to organize themselves again. “Much.”

“Now I’ve a friend to find.”

As he was leaving, he heard Gaius call him back. He paused, looking at the physician. Gwen was looking at him too.

“Be careful Gwaine. Do not judge too harshly.”

Confused as to what that meant, Gwaine nodded as he left. _‘What’s with the vague riddles? What does Gaius know that he’s trying to hide?’_ As Gwaine mulled over the interactions he had had that morning, it seemed to him like Gaius, Gwen, and even Arthur were all in on some kind of secret that was behind Merlin’s current predicament.

 _‘Maybe I’ll be able to get it out of Princess,’_ thought Gwaine, before sighing. _‘No, that’ll never work. For anyone other than Merlin or Gwen, it would just be like trying to get blood from a stone.’_

Gwaine also knew better than to try Merlin when – _‘Yes,_ when _,’_ – they found him. _‘For a guy who talks so much and is so free with his emotions, Merlin tends to keep things very close to his chest.’_ He wondered, idly, if there was something _there_ that explained everything. Though what that could be, he had no idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Deep breaths everybody, Merlin’s alive and he’s going to be ok. Aithusa got to him early enough. He’s only going to get better from here.  
> Gwaine’s POV gave me some trouble. I’m not sure I got the right balance between rouge knight and concerned/comforting friend, but I tried my best. Please read & review and let me know how I did, all comments welcome!


	12. Beyond Imagining

Arzela' and Tadek’s heads both snapped upwards at the sound above them. The sight that met their eyes was something Arzela had never even _dreamed_ she would ever see. The form of a baby dragon the size of a small hound was diving through the air, heading straight for them. The creature glittered a pure, iridescent white in the sun.

 _‘What exactly have we gotten ourselves into?’_ thought Arzela as she sat frozen next to the struggling man.

The dragon landed badly in it’s haste, smacking into the ground, squawking in fear. The creature quickly picked itself up and bounded towards the injured man on the ground. It chirruped worriedly at him, nudging his head, searching for a reaction that was not forthcoming.

Arzela and Tadek could only gape as the beautiful, dangerous create showed very clear signs of worry and affection for the dying man lying between them.

Arzeal looked at the man’s face as his breathing became heavily laboured, his limbs loosing strength in their struggle. _‘Could he really be a dragon lord?’_

She could not think of any other reason that there would currently be a baby dragon trying to rouse him. _‘I had thought they were all gone for good, along with the dragons themselves.’_

Seeming to give up on trying to elicit a direct reaction from the man, the dragon turned it’s attention to the man’s injured right side. It whimpered at the sight of the man’s shoulder, neck and arm, clearly frantic. Arzela and Tadek were completely ignored.

The dragon shifted, going to move forwards, but then caught sight of the stone lying on the ground next to the man. Slowly the dragon grabbed the cloth it sat on and pulled it away from the rapidly fading man. As the creature turned around it locked eyes with Arzela.

_‘It knows the stone belongs to me.’_

Arzela’s suspicion was confirmed as it gave her a small nod, before settling itself next to the man’s tortured shoulder. The creature wrapped it’s tail around the man’s head, one wing stretched out, resting on his brow, as it opened it’s mouth. It gently touched it’s maw to the raw flesh, breathing out a golden mist of magic as it did so.

A shudder ran through the man’s body and he whimpered in pain. The red lines that had been crawling across the man’s skin suddenly stopped in their tracks. Pained whimpers continued to escape the man’s lips between his ragged breaths, but still the little dragon laid there, curled around him, breathing golden mist onto his shoulder, eyes closed.

Arzela’s thoughts finally managed to catch up with what she was seeing, suddenly realizing the man had stilled. She looked up at Tadek, who sat with his mouth hanging open and his eyes bugging out. Snapping her fingers in front of his face to get his attention, she spoke in a quiet voice. “I believe, my friend, that this is beyond us now.”

Tadek only managed to make a chocking sort of noise as she pulled him back from the scene that was playing out in front of them. They watched from the sidelines, waiting to see what would happen.

_‘Whatever battles are being fought here, exist on planes that we could never hope to see.’_

Nothing appeared to happen for a long time. Then, the red lines retreated somewhat, drawing backwards along their paths of pain on the man’s skin. He shifted, turning his head, breaths panicked and strained, looking for all the world as if he wanted to pull away.

One of the dragons paws came forward slowly and hooked around the mans arm, holding him in place.

_‘The dragon looks almost too small for the stretched out position it’s in now.’_

Convulsions wracked the mans body as the red lines retreated again. His breathing was ragged when he moaned, beginning to mutter words with what little breath he had.

“…won’t…”

“…ang’rous…”

“…why…”

“…fail…”

Another shudder ran through the man’s body, prompting the dragon to make the first sound it had since it started whatever it was it was doing. A broken whimper escaped the dragon’s mouth. Arzela saw small tears glisten in the bright sunlight as they escaped the creatures eyes.

As if in response, the man’s body suddenly lurched, his eyes flickering with the presence of gold, his back arching as he drew in a huge gasp of air. He head turned slightly towards the dragon as the red lines retreated in earnest. Now they were back to how they had been when they had first found the poor man.

“…thusa…”

“…s’ry…”

The man’s breathing was still laboured with pain, but it levelled off and he stilled.

The little dragon sat up, shaking it’s head, a scaly paw still on the man’s arm, it’s tail still wrapped around his head. The creature nuzzled him again, mussing his hair before walking around to his uninjured side. It settled itself under his uninjured arm, laying it’s head and a clawed paw across his chest, chirruping at him softly.

Watching all this, Arzela knew for the first time that the man would be alright. _‘He has another connection now, after all, to live for. And it is that which really saved him.’_

* * *

Though Gwaine’s headache was gone now, and he could finally think straight, his memory of the previous night was patchy in places.

 _‘I don’t usually allow myself to get blackout drunk,’_ thought Gwaine as he headed for the courtyard. _‘I guess I just got used to other people – namely Merlin – dragging me home before that point.’_

Gwaine wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing.

_‘I have others I can rely on now. I don’t have to do everything for myself.’_

It was Merlin who had offered him this life. Merlin who had befriended him despite his hectic lifestyle. Merlin who had seen through the carefree walls he had built around himself to the man that was underneath. It was Merlin who had showed him it was ok – even a good thing – to rely on other people. To need them, in a way.

_‘Whoever took Merlin better not have hurt him. I won’t show them any mercy if they did.’_

Gwaine was snapped out of his thoughts as he entered the courtyard by Percival hailing him.

“You know?” questioned the larger knight by way of a greeting as he approached.

Gwaine nodded his head. “Does Princess have a plan?”

“Leon and Elyan are going to search the citadel. We’re supposed to cover the lower town. Arthur’s going to see if he can learn anything more from Gaius.”

Gwaine led the way through the castle gates. As they walked, Percival pulled Gwaine’s arm, heading in a direction he knew quite well.

“I never thought _I’d_ ever say something like this, but why are we heading for the tavern? We have more important things to be doing right now.”

Percival threw Gwaine an annoyed look. “Do you remember those strangers at the tavern from last night?”

“…not really.”

“They might have been the ones to take Merlin,” said Percival, ham fists clenched angrily at his sides, his eyes starring straight ahead. “We’re going to see if we can find anything there first.”

Gwaine knew better than to argue with the large knight in that state.

 _‘Damn, angry Percival is scary. If Merlin’s hurt, there’s gonna be a lineup for who gets to kill the bastards first. And I’m not sure I’ll be able to get to the front of_ that _line.’_

They reached the Rising Sun and walked inside. Upon entering, they were hit by the buzzing hubbub of laughter, comradery and the sweet scent of ail that permeates all good taverns. A table in the far corner full of men neck-deep in their tankards hailed Gwaine enthusiastically when they saw him.

“A little early for you to be out drinking isn’t it?” yelled one of the men, louder than was strictly necessary in his inebriated state.

Gwaine smiled mischievously as he waved back with all the swagger he could muster. “Hate to break your hearts boys, but this visit is strictly business.”

“What business would that be? Quality control on the towns ail?”

Those who were within earshot laughed loudly before turning away from the scene.

By this time, Percival had located the innkeeper and pulled him aside for a private word. Gwaine followed into them into a private room at the back of the pub and closed the door behind them, leaning against it.

_‘Can never be too careful. If these people have lookouts we don’t want them listening in.’_

“So what can I do for you, Sir Percival, Sir Gwaine?” asked the innkeeper once the door was closed.

“Have you noticed anyone acting suspiciously since early last night?”

“I have to say,” began the innkeeper, fiddling distractedly with his hands in his lap, “That there was something.”

“I don’t know anything for certain, mind you – ”

“Anything you’ve noticed would be helpful Daniel,” said Gwaine from the door.

Daniel nodded. “Do either of you remember those two strangely dressed foreigners from last night? The man who came barging into the tavern looking flustered and his female companion in the tight-fitting outfit?”

Percival nodded. Gwaine frowned, remembering _something_ like that, but not having a clear picture.

“Can you describe the woman more? I don’t remember that well.”

“Short brown hair, auburn eyes. A slim thing, the woman was, but she had quite a bit of muscle on her too.”

 _‘Now I remember,’_ thought Gwaine, confusion beginning to settle in.

“The Varteesian warrior?”

Both Percival and Daniel turned to stare at Gwaine.

“Varteesian warrior?” asked Percival after a moment.

Gwaine cocked an eyebrow at the others. “Yes, a warrior from Vartee. They all wear the same kind of tight-fitting outfit that woman had on.”

“Vartee is not a kingdom I’ve heard of before.”

“That’s because it’s not a kingdom, at least not really,” said Gwaine.

“What is it then?”

“I’m not sure exactly. Varteesian’s are very secretive by nature. Nobody really knows where they come from. Just by knowing the name of their city, or whatever it actually is, I know a lot more about them than most.”

“Are they dangerous?”

Several heartbeats passed before Gwaine answered. “They never were before…”

“…But they could be it they wanted to be.”

Percival turned back to Daniel. “Are they still here?”

“I’m afraid not. They left very early this morning. Almost before the sun was up.”

“Do you know what they were here for?” asked Gwaine.

“From what I gathered, supplies. Most of what they bought was goods that are hard to find elsewhere. They did also buy a lot of grain and foodstuffs. Stuff that would keep for a winter or two.” Daniel paused there for a moment before he continued speaking. “I could’ve sworn, though, that the cart they left with was pilled too high for the goods I remember seeing them with.”

“Do you happen to know where they were heading?”

“No, I don’t. I asked the woman when she checked out this morning. All she said was that they were going home. When I asked where home was exactly, she just said _‘north’_ , and then left without another word. That was when I began to become suspicious.”

Percival was silent as Gwaine thanked Daniel and sent him on his way.

Gwaine stared at the opposite wall, a deep frown marring his face.

“Gwaine,” said Percival quietly, “What is it?”

“From everything I know about the Varteesian’s, which isn’t a lot mind you, they’re peaceful people. They have warriors, but they never actively seek out violence.”

“Things change.”

“That’s what worries me.”

There was a long silence.

“We have to tell Arthur about this. There’s no point searching the town now. Merlin’s probably already long gone.”

Gwaine led the way back to the citadel. _‘Did someone else get to Merlin first, and then that woman found him and saved him? That would fit more with what I know of Varteesian’s, but it doesn’t explain why they would not have gone to the city officials.’_

If the Varteesian’s were no longer as peaceful as they had once been, it could be very, very bad. For Merlin, but also for Camelot as a whole.

_‘Secrets, secrets. There are too many secrets here. We can’t make a move so long as we’re in the dark. The Varteesian’s would make for bad enemies should it come to that. And lord knows we don’t need any more of those.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: So what do you guys think? I love little Aithusa cuddling up to Merlin, I think it’s so cute and sweet, and we needed more of that in the show. Reviews are cookies that I savour and keep me going! Your thoughts are always greatly appreciated.


	13. Learning New Things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: I’ve got a longer chapter here for you guys this time. Thanks to everyone who’s been reviewing. Always greatly appreciated.  
> New perspective this chapter! Let me know what you guys think!

Aithusa laid her head across her lord’s chest so that she could feel his heart. She could tell that it was beating an irregular rhythm, that it was working faster than it should. But she could also feel it beginning to settle. The rhythm was still irregular, the beats still coming too quickly, but it was calming, her lord beginning to relax, if only a little.

“What do we do now?” came a voice from somewhere behind her. It sounded like one of the two humans she had found with her lord.

 _‘Male sounding,’_ thought Aithusa.

“I guess we may as well take the opportunity to cook some lunch,” said the other human in a softer voice.

_‘A female.’_

Aithusa still gave her lord most of her attention, but continued listening to the other humans. She had never really had any contact with humans before. Her lord had told her not to, that they might hurt her if she showed herself. So she was curious about them, but was not yet willing to take her attention away from her lord to watch them. She settled for listening.

“And what do you propose we do about _him_?”

There was a short pause. Aithusa figured both humans were probably looking to her and her lord.

“Leave them for now. We’ll have to see if the dragon will allow us to tend him latter to give him food and water.”

“I officially declare that _your_ job.”

The sound of laughter echoed across their little clearing. “Then I officially declare you my assistant.”

The two humans talked about getting wood to start a fire and water to cook a stew with, then left to search through the trees for what they needed. Aithusa stayed focussed on her lord.

After a little while, she felt a presence push against her mind. Recognizing it as her dragon-kin Kilgharrah, she opened herself and allowed him entrance.

_‘Aithusa! You found Merlin?’_

She allowed an image of their lord’s sleeping face to pass through their link.

Kilgharrah’s relief was palatable to her, radiating through their link. _‘Well done little one.’_

There was a long moment of silence.

_‘Merlin will still need you Aithusa. You must stay with him so you may help.’_

_‘I know.’_

_‘Good. I will come to you and Merlin tonight. Keep him safe.’_

Aithusa hesitated for a moment before responding. _‘Humans here.’_

Kilgharrah seemed to attempt to gather his thoughts before he responded. _‘How did they react to you?’_

_‘They were helping daddy. Left me alone.’_

Again Kilgharrah was silent for a time. _‘I will come to you tonight,’_ and then his presence left her mind.

She hummed to herself, content that her larger kin would be coming to help heal and protect their lord before too long.

Turning her attention back to him, Aithusa became aware again of the pain he was still in. She was content, at least, that she had sent him into a sleep where he could not feel it. But that wouldn’t last forever, and she worried what might happen when it began to fade.

Before too much longer, the two humans came back and bustled about setting a fire and using strange tools to cook small pieces of meat and plants in water.

 _‘They eat plants?’_ thought Aithusa as she watched them add things to the pot to cook. _‘Meat’s not enough?’_

The humans were strange to watch. No other creature she had met was quite like them. She had seen other creatures eat plants, but she had never seen any other creature use fire on their food before eating it.

The male one seemed skittish because of her presence and watchful eye, but she thought it might have been more awe than real fear he felt. The female was more reserved. She was cautious, but seemed content that she had no interest in doing anything but protecting her lord.

When the two humans were finished their meal, the female one went to their cart and pulled out a small bag that smelled like cow. _‘Maybe it’s made from them?’_

She pulled out some leaves and a roll of white fabric. After going to fill a shallow bowl with water, the female crushed some leaves from her bag and mixed them into the bowl.

Despite his earlier protests, the male one came forwards willingly when the female asked him to grab a bowl of broth and a water skein and followed her towards Aithusa and her lord.

Aithusa watched the two humans approach her, but did nothing to stop them or scare them off. When she was about five feet away, the female stopped, the male only slightly behind her.

“Hello, young dragon, is this man your dragon lord?” she asked in a quiet voice.

Aithusa hummed in response before wrapping her tail around his leg.

The woman tilted her head as she watched. “Still too young to speak then, I take it.”

Aithusa chirruped at her.

“Will you let us help him?” asked the female, motioning to her lord.

Aithusa looked to him, then back at the woman. They had been helping him when she came, doing what they could. She dipped her head to show they had her permission to approach.

Smiling encouragingly, the female brought over her bowl of leaf-paste and role of fabric. She carefully examined the red lines marring her lord’s skin before brining forward the leaf-paste. Aithusa growled once, quietly, and the female stopped, turning to face her.

“It’s to help bring down the swelling and ease some of his pain. It won’t hurt him,” she explained as she held out the leaf-past for Aithusa to see.

Aithusa leaned forward and sniffed the bowl, finding a faintly sweet scent. It did not tell her much though. She was not familiar with human remedies or healing. She sat back and watched as the woman began to spread the paste carefully over her lords affected skin.

He shifted slightly at the contact, but Aithusa knew it was more from the fact that his skin was so sensitive than it was from the female doing any actual harm. She chirruped at him, nuzzling his head trying to calm him. She continued to hum soothingly into his ear as the female took the role of white cloth and began wrapping his injuries.

When the female tied off the last bandage, the male came forward with the cooling bowl of stew and a skein of water.

“Could you move aside for a moment, so we can get him some food and water?”

Aithusa looked up at the female and stared at her for a long moment. She didn’t want to leave her lord. She slowly sat up and moved off his chest. The male carefully lifted him into a sitting position with the female’s help. She sat next to him as the two humans coaxed the water and broth into his mouth and got him to swallow.

When they were satisfied with how much food and water he had taken, the male one retrieved a shirt from the grass and they both worked it over her lords head. That done, they lowered him back down onto the grass, and Aithusa moved back, laying once again across his chest.

She watched as the two humans doused their fire and packed their things away in their cart again, ready, it seemed, to leave.

“I assume that despite the dragon we’ll still be taking him with us?” It didn’t really sound like an actual question.

“We can’t just leave him.”

“A dragon will make it more difficult to move through the country unnoticed. If anyone sees us,”

“It’s not like we’re going to be able to tell it – ”

Aithusa squawked indignantly at the humans.

“ – him – ”

Aithusa squawked again. _‘I’m a SHE!’_ But they did not have magic, and could not hear her.

“ – her, to leave and let us deal with this,” continued the female, sending an apologetic glance over her shoulder. “Besides, it’s better for him to have the dragon here. From how old she is, he’d have hatched her himself. He’ll _need_ that bond if he is to recover.”

“What about sending word to Vartee? We’d have to stop in a town to do that, and we can’t do that in Camelot if we bring a dragon with us.”

The female seemed to ponder their options for a long time.

 _‘Not leaving daddy alone,’_ thought Aithusa stubbornly. _‘Whatever humans say.’_

It seemed though, that her indignation was not needed. “We’ll travel across country, but stay close to the road so that we pass by, but not through a town. We’ll find a sheltered spot to make camp away from prying eyes, and then I’ll take Sable and ride into town to send off our letter before coming back. That way we can travel with the dragon and no one need know.”

The male dropped his voice a little as he talked. Aithusa had to strain her ears to hear him. “What if the dragon doesn’t want him to come with us?”

“She knows we’ve been helping him. And she’ll want to stay with him. As long as we don’t hurt him, and let her stay as close to him as she wants, I don’t see her having any complaints.”

The male seemed happy with the plan. The two humans then came over and asked Aithusa to move so that they could place her lord in the bed set up on their cart. She followed him over, and then laid down next to him, hidden under a blanket they had set up to shade him from the sun.

She would not be able to lie on him while they moved for fear of being jostled and scratching or clawing him. She had to be happy with laying next to him. Before too much longer, the cart was moving off. They were on their way.

* * *

Arthur almost didn’t have the nerve to face Gaius again, but there were things he needed to know if he was going to go after Merlin. When he reached the corridor to Gaius’ he met Gwen who was just leaving.

“How’s Gaius doing?” he asked when he saw her.

She bit her lip looking a little worried before answering. “He’s trying to distract himself with his work. He’s really worried Arthur.”

 _‘I’m worried too,’_ thought Arthur.

“What are you doing back here?”

“…I was going to ask Gaius if he felt up to examining the body of my attacker. Maybe…he might be able to find something that would tell us where the man came from, who his friends might be.”

“Be careful Arthur,” cautioned Gwen as she moved off down the hall. “I’ve never seen Gaius look so worn.”

“Nor have I.”

Arthur moved off and entered the physician’s chambers to find him puttering about making the remedies for his morning rounds. When Gaius noticed him, he stopped his work, but did not turn to face him.

“Sire,” he said, “How can I help you?”

The note of ice in his tone made Arthur inwardly cringe.

“I’m sorry to bother you Gaius, but did you have a chance to examine the body of my attacker from last night? Maybe you could find something that might show us where he came from, or who he might have been working with?”

Gaius turned to look at Arthur then. The steel in his eyes had softened, even though it was clear he had not yet forgiven him.

“I examined the body last night after you left Sire. Some guards brought it in precisely for that purpose. I found nothing of any consequence.”

“…So we have no idea where he came from.”

“I’m afraid not.”

 _‘Not that I really thought we would. It’s not like he would have a map on him marked_ “evil sorcerers live here” _or anything. But it needed to be asked.’_

Arthur stood for a long moment watching Gaius move about doing his work.

“Is there…some way you could…can you track a person…with magic?”

Gaius froze for a moment before turning slowly to look at Arthur, his face unreadable.

“Perhaps,” said Gaius, “But it would likely be powerful magic.”

“You once studied sorcery Gaius, could you not do it?”

There was a long pause. “It has been a long time since I practiced Arthur. I was never very powerful to being with, and now that I have not used the ability for so long, it has almost completely left me. Even if I could once have performed such a feat, I’m not able to now.”

“Why would it require such powerful magic to track someone?”

“Without potions and pre-planning, the spell would have to travel a long distance. Distance matters in magic, Arthur. The farther a sorcerer stretches their power, the weaker it becomes.”

_‘I guess that makes sense. There are limits even to what magic can achieve.’_

Arthur turned to leave, but stopped with his hand on the door handle, a thought occurring to him.

“Gaius, why are you so certain Merlin’s been kidnapped for his magic?”

Gaius’ shoulders slumped as he turned to face Arthur again.

“Because Arthur, he’s more powerful than even he knows. Always does he doubt himself and worry that he will not be able to stop those who wish you or Camelot harm. Yet he always succeeds anyways.”

Arthur pondered the meaning of that as he left. _‘That doesn’t sound too far off from the Merlin I know,’_

_‘The truth was right in front of me the whole time. I just refused to see it.’_

When Arthur arrived back at his chambers, he stood frozen for a moment, starring at the sword that still lay on his table, untouched from the night before. _‘Guinevere must’ve told George to leave it be. He would’ve moved it had she not.’_ The untouched food from that morning was long gone.

Arthur moved forward slowly and picked up the sword. He remembered asking Gaius what the inscriptions on the blade meant sometime after they retook Camelot.

_‘Take me up…cast me away.’_

Arthur considered the blade for a long time. _‘How could you always have so much faith in me, but never in yourself? How much of what I have achieved was really you?’_

* * *

On their way back through the citadel, Gwaine and Percival met up with Leon and Elyan. The two knights had not found anything in their search of the castle, and were understandably happy that their contemporaries had managed to turn up _something_.

 _‘The more time passes, the more everyone looks like they’re ready to rip someone’s head off,’_ thought Gwaine as they headed for Arthur’s chambers to deliver their reports. _‘Percival could probably manage it with his bare hands.’_

When they reached Arthur’s room, Gwaine threw open the door and strode inside before anyone else had a chance to even think about knocking. They found Arthur inside pacing around agitatedly. Gwaine noticed that for the briefest moment when he threw open the doors, a look of hope flashed across Arthur’s face. _‘Of course. Merlin never did stand on ceremony with the Princess.’_ In a rare showing of tact, Gwaine made no comment, and Arthur managed to reel in his emotions before anyone else noticed. Gwen sidled into the room around the knights and joined Arthur, lacing her fingers into his.

“Did you find him?”

The silence that greeted him was answer enough. Arthur’s jaw clenched as the struggled to keep up his kingly façade.

“I’m sorry,” said Elyan after a moment, “Leon and I looked everywhere we could think, but we found no trace of Merlin.”

“We even went down to the tunnels and burial vaults to see if someone had passed through recently,” continued Leon. “There were no tracks in the dust, and all the gates were still in place and locked tight.”

 _‘Locked gates is a better indicator that no one’s passed through there,’_ thought Gwaine, _‘Any fool with magic would have thought to cover their tracks.’_

“I asked the palace servants if they’ve seen him, or even if they noticed someone who didn’t belong. None of them know anything either,” said Gwen from Arthur’s side, trying to catch her husbands eyes.

“There was nothing to be learned from anything my attacker had on him either.”

 _‘Sounds like there’s more to that story.’_ Arthur seemed too frustrated for such a small effort to phase him so much. _‘Though that’s Princess for you. Getting annoyed because he can’t do anything right.’_

Everyone turned to look at Gwaine and Percival, the only ones who hadn’t spoken.

“Did you two find anything?” asked Gwen.

Percival looked at Gwaine then, clearly telling him to fill the others in on what they had learned.

“We did.”

Everyone in the room straightened just a bit.

“Daniel at the Rising Sun became suspicious of the early departure of two foreign travelers this morning. From how they were dressed, I’d have to say they were probably from Vartee.”

A long silence greeted Gwaine’s words. It was Arthur who finally broke it. “What the hell is _‘Vartee’_?” he asked, “I’ve never even heard of that kingdom.”

“It’s not a kingdom,” said Gwaine. “I’m not really sure what it is, actually. But the woman who was at the inn last night was dressed like a warrior from Vartee.”

“A _female_ warrior?”

Everyone looked deep in thought for a moment. _‘I’ve heard the story of Morgause, Morgana’s sister and how she first made herself known,’_ thought Gwaine, _‘In light of that, this doesn’t look too good does it?’_

“Is it just me, or has every evil sorcerer we’ve come across just _happened_ to have been a woman?”

“What else can you tell us about this woman and the place she comes from?” asked Leon in a measured voice.

“Not much. Varteesian’s are really secretive. They make even the Druids look tame in that regard. Very few people even know that they are a unified people. The only reason I know about them is how much moving around I did. You meet a couple every once in a while.”

“Where do they come from?”

“No one really knows for certain. But they come from north somewhere,” said Gwaine, “In or around the White Mountains I’d say, probably beyond the boundaries of any other kingdom.”

“Do they have magic?”

“Some do. Their warriors don’t _always_ have magic, but even without they are _damn good_ in a fight. I’ve never seen a Varteesian warrior lose.”

“These people,” said Leon, “Would they be sympathetic to Morgana?”

“…I wouldn’t have thought so,” said Gwaine. “Ever other time I’ve met a Varteesian, they were helping other people who couldn’t help themselves. I’ve always seen them before as the worlds universal relief effort to the desperate.”

“It would make more sense if someone else had attacked Merlin, and that woman saw what was going on and rescued him. But that doesn’t explain why they wouldn’t have told anybody about it, or where Merlin is now.”

“Nor would it explain why they left in such a hurry,” finished Leon into the silence.

Arthur clenched his hands into fists before standing up and addressing their group, a look of determination settling on his face. _‘Finally, we’re getting somewhere.’_

“We’re going after these… _Varteesians_. Ready the horses. We leave in an hour.”

Gwaine grinned at Arthur with a sudden, savage glee. “With pleasure.”

As he left, he heard Arthur turn to Gwen. “I need you to stay here Gwen,”

“I know. Bring him home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: So now everyone’s on the move. Will Arthur and the boys catch up to Merlin? Do the runaway’s have a big enough head start? And how, pray tell, is Merlin doing after all this? I guess we’ll all just have to wait and see! ;D  
> I really love protective-Aithusa, it’s so cute. And we got a little thread of guilty-Kilgharrah here too, which I think the show could’ve used a small taste of. He was too manipulative in the beginning, and Merlin too forgiving for my liking.  
> Let me know what you guys think!


	14. On the Horizon

As soon as Kigharrah was able to stand, he flew away from the city.

 _‘It would not do for me to be discovered now when I am too tired to fight off the knights of Camelot,’_ thought the old dragon.

Regardless of his own health, he knew Merlin had left the city. _‘Or rather that someone took him away from it.’_

That there were people helping the young warlock was a great relief to him.

 _‘I’ve never felt so helpless,’_ thought Kilgharrah as he considered the state Merlin would likely be in following his outburst. _‘Not even when I was trapped underground was I this helpless. I was still able to affect the events of the world then. Now though, I can do nothing. My bond with the young warlock is just not strong enough.’_

He found a large cavern hidden in the forest a ways off with a place large enough for him to land. Though he was able to move about again, he knew he was still far from recovered after sending so much of his strength to Merlin.

It worried the old dragon greatly that he had not been able to sense Merlin since he was able to push both Aithusa and him out of his mind. Kilgharrah was not sure that his bond to the young warlock was strong enough for him to actually feel it if Merlin had died.

Once he was settled, Kilgharrah reached out to Aithusa, desperate to know if she had found Merlin. He was relieved when he located the little dragon’s mind and sensed the calmness that had settled over her.

_‘Aithusa! You found Merlin?’_

In response, his young kin sent him a mental picture of Merlin. He was appalled by the dire state the young warlock’s shoulder and arm was in, though he was relieved that Merlin did not appear to be in pain at the moment. He managed to keep his continued worry from his younger kin.

The little dragon must’ve just managed to pull Merlin back from the brink. He was immeasurably grateful to her.

_‘Well done little one.’_

He could sense her happiness at his praise, but he knew this was far from over. Merlin’s death may have been forestalled, but that did not mean that he was healed.

_‘Merlin will still need you Aithusa. You must stay with him so you may help.’_

_‘I know.’_

_‘Good,’_

Kilgharrah could only wish for the unquestionable love and support Aithusa was able to offer Merlin. Little had happened over the years to make him regret his actions since meeting the young warlock. Now though, the deepest recesses of Merlin’s soul could not move past the wounds he had inflicted. The old dragon only wished he could heal the harm he had caused, so that he may truly help Merlin heal.

 _‘I will come to you and Merlin tonight,’_ said Kilgharrah into the little dragon’s mind, _‘Keep him safe.’_

He was not surprised when she responded with some trepidation that there were other humans present.

 _‘How did they react to you?’_ asked Kilgharrah.

By this point, he was quite certain that Merlin was not in immediate danger. Without having to worry for the life of his dragon lord, he had become curious as to who would know enough about souls and magic to help him.

_‘They were helping daddy. Left me alone.’_

He really needed to teach Aithusa not to call Merlin that.

It seemed that whomever had taken Merlin was comfortable with dragons. That meant they likely had magic themselves, which they had learned to use before Uther’s terrible Purge. He still did not know who would have had access to teachings on soul magic at that time. It was uncharted waters for most of the human race.

_‘I will come to you tonight.’_

He left the little dragon’s mind then, and settled down in the cave to rest.

He would reserve judgement on the people who had taken Merlin for now. If they were the wrong kind of people, he would take Merlin and bring him somewhere safe, Aithusa in his wake. That Aithusa had had no difficulty with them was encouraging though, and he did not believe he would need to take Merlin.

_‘It is still good to stay warry, so long as the Witch remains at large.’_

The exact kind of people who had taken Merlin would be crucial for his future safety.

* * *

“I need you to stay here Guinevere,” said Arthur as the last of the knights left the room.

“I know. Bring him home.”

The door finally closed behind Gwaine, the last to leave. Arthur stepped away from Gwen and grabbed a bag. After watching him flounder about the room looking for the things he would need, Gwen took pity on him and began to help. As they worked, a frenzied silence began to stretch through the room.

 _‘I can’t remember the last time I really heard this kind of hopeless silence,’_ thought Arthur, _‘Merlin’s been there to drive it away for so long, and now he’s gone.’_ He sincerely hoped that Merlin was not gone for good, though he wouldn’t blame the man if he chose not to come back.

“Do you think he’ll want to come back?” asked Arthur, voicing the silent fear in his heart.

He turned around to see a look of worry flit it’s way across Gwen’s face.

“He will,” she said after a moments hesitation, “…But…maybe…just not right away.”

He nodded absently. Merlin really was too forgiving for his own good. If things had been the other way around, Arthur knew he would not be convinced to return. _‘If things were reversed, I would have left long before we reached this point.’_

Arthur could only hope to be allowed the chance to prove himself worthy of Merlin’s loyalty. _‘I could only ever have hoped to be worthy of it. I know that now.’_ That he was any form of good ruler was thanks in large part to Merlin’s presence in his life.

He could not help but wonder how the others in his life, the knights, Gwen, had been changed by the man. _‘For surely, he has changed us all.’_ Even Leon, who had been his father’s best knight next to him, was much freer with his friendship these days.

“Do you think I should’ve told the knights about Merlin’s magic?” asked Arthur after a long silence.

“No,” came Gwen’s immediate response. “It’s not your secret to tell.”

“Besides, we don’t know how they would react.”

“Gwaine probably wouldn’t care either way. He’d likely threaten my own life if I tried to hurt Merlin, actually.”

“I’m sure he wouldn’t.”

Arthur had to mentally agree to disagree with her on that point. _‘The only person I can think of who would be able to stop him would be Merlin. Unless Percival were to punch him and knock him out.’_

The other knights notwithstanding, Gwaine would protect his friend with everything he had. No questions asked. _‘He’s always believed that actions define a person more than anything. And magic or no, Merlin has never done anything to harm anyone.’_

His bags now packed, Arthur noticed that already the day was more than half over. Shaking himself from his thoughts, he worked quickly to put his armour on, Gwen helping him with the fasteners he couldn’t reach on his own.

As he headed for the door, she called out to him.

“Arthur!”

He turned to look at her. She walked up to him and enveloped him in an embrace.

Feeling some of his tension bleed out, Arthur buried his face in her hair. It smelled like sweet honeysuckle and rosemary.

“Be safe,” said Gwen, “And remember to _listen_.”

He locked eyes with her, communicating a silent vow to her. _‘Never will I make that mistake again.’_

He left the room and made his way quickly to the stables where he found Gwaine ready to go, with both his own horse and Arthur’s already saddled. They did not have to wait for too much longer to be joined by the other knights.

“Sire, I took the liberty of informing the council that you were going on a hunting trip.”

“Thank you Leon,” said Arthur as they rode leisurely through the gates and out of the castle.

Overhead the sky was beginning to darken, threatening rain. Once they were clear of the city walls, Arthur let loose the reigns on his bay charger, racing off in search of his wayward friend. _‘Because yes, he is a friend.’_

The knights followed suit without any hesitation. They were not only racing to catch up with their pray and rescue a friend, they were racing to stay ahead of the storm that growing above them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: So, what do you guys think? Should I let Arthur and gang catch up with Merlin? Hmm, maybe I should give the poor soul a chance to heal before throwing him back in with Arthur.  
> All reviews and comments welcome! Anything you’ve got to say, I would love to hear!


	15. The Storm Comes

Aithusa was content to lay next to Merlin for the day. She was close enough that if he needed her, she could easily help him.

The two humans talked quietly as they traveled.

“I don’t think we’ll actually be able to find a path off the road Arzela. The countryside’s too wild, and we don’t know it well enough.”

“It seems your right,” said the female as she turned around, glancing back at Aithusa and her lord. “We just have to hope that nobody we may pass notices anything amiss.”

They continued to speak in low voices, occasionally sending shooting glances over their shoulders.

Aithusa lay quietly in the shade next to her lord. Occasionally she nuzzled him, extending her mind outwards, just to check. She found that he was still suspended in the blank relief she had given him, but the pain was beginning to pull at him again. He could not feel it as of yet, but it was coming.

As the day wore on, they passed a few other travelers. From her position hidden under the blanket, Aithusa couldn’t actually see them, but she could hear them approach and smell the horses that seemed to always accompany humans.

The afternoon began to ware on and the sky began to cloud over while the wind picked up a little. A shiver ran down Aithusa’s spine as the cooling breeze slipped under the shading blanket, brushing against her. Looking back, she could see just enough of the sky to know that a great storm was brewing behind them, thought it was not headed their way.

 _‘Magic’s in the air,’_ thought Aithusa as the wind blew gently past them again, caressing them all with a calming embrace. At the touch, her lord groaned and shifted slightly before lying still again.

_‘He feels something.’_

Stretching out her mind, Aithusa could sense that his blissful oblivion was almost over. She shifted so she could rest her head on his uninjured shoulder and wrapped her tail around his leg. _‘I’m still here.’_

She was not sure if he had heard her, but it needed to be said, nevertheless.

The feeling of magic intensified, charging the air. The two humans, and even their horse, began to feel it, twitching or shifting about a little nervously.

The female stood up in her seat and looked back the way they had come. The breeze blew past again, lifting her short hair before moving off and passing them by.

“What’s happening?”

“I’m not sure,” said the female, staring intently at the gathering clouds. “But whatever it is, I don’t think it’s going to bother us.”

The male threw her a confused look. “The weather doesn’t play favourites Arzela.”

“…No. It does not.”

Still the female watched the sky. The male threw a glance back at the clouds, eyebrow raised at his companion.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

 _‘Someone’s unhappy that daddy’s hurt,’_ thought Aithusa to herself.

“I don’t know. But it means _something_.”

The strange, heady scent of earth and rock and _wet_ which seems to always arrive before the rain itself came then. It was only a few minutes latter when it started. Hidden as they were under the blanket, Aithusa and her lord were shielded from the waters.  
The rain began streaming down more heavily prompting the two humans to flip up the hoods of their cloaks. Thunder rolled across the land from behind them where the clouds were thickest, signalling that lightning was now threading the sky.

“We’ll need to find shelter for the night with the storm coming.”

“Yes, but we’ll keep going for now. It seems the worst is already behind us, and it’s not moving this way. If that changes, then we’ll look for a place to stop.”

Aithusa lost whatever else the humans may have been talking about as reality crashed back into her lord, bringing all his pain with it once again.

* * *

Though Arthur was loath to, he slowed the pace of his horse to a walk and forced himself to breath. He scanned the dirt road that lay in front of him. The tracks of a heavily laden cart were visible, along with several other tracks littering the road too. On the hard packed earth, it was difficult to figure out exactly how old each of the tracks were.

“Just how many supplied did these people leave with again?”

“Daniel said their cart was fit to bursting,” said Gwaine.

“There’s not a fork in the road for miles yet Arhtur,” said Elyan as he rode up next to them. “They won’t be able to move across country with a heavily laden cart.”

“They may know an unmarked path thought,” said Leon as he scanned the roadside bushes.

Arthur said nothing and continued to glare at the deepest rivets in the road. They continued in silence for a while, each man watching the trail, half-expecting it disappear before their eyes.

 _‘Why not? If magics involved,’_ thought Arthur.

He wasn’t sure what he believed about magic anymore. He didn’t think he really believed it was the embodiment of pure evil now. _‘But that leaves the question of what it_ really _is.’_

What he wanted more than anything, was to talk to Merlin. Really _talk_. But more importantly, he wanted to listen to what the man had to say.

Hours passed before the forest around them opened up slightly into a decent sized clearing bordering the road. The tracks of the heavy cart paused there.

In the clearing’s centre was the remains of a small cookfire. Arthur motioned for the knights to dismount and spread out, searching the clearing for tracks or signs of people still hiding somewhere. Gwaine, Leon and Elyan each found tracks leading out of the clearing, and moved to follow them into the trees.

Arthur moved to the firepit while Percival fanned out to cover the rest of the clearing. The coals were cold, so whoever had been there had moved on some time ago.

“Arthur,” came Percival’s voice.

Arthur looked around and saw Percival standing about ten feet away, gazing at the ground, a faint crease showing between his eyes.

_‘Maybe Merlin managed to get away?’_

Hoping for some good news, Arthur walked over to the giant knight. “What is it?”

In answer, Percival pointed at the ground. Arthur turned his attention to where the knight indicated, then frowned. The grass had been disturbed by something, something the size of a dog, but with claws too big to be one.

It looked like something had hit the ground hard, shredding it as the beast attempted to right itself.

Arthur and Percival searched for similar tracks around the clearing. There were no tracks of clawed feet leading either in or out.

_‘So whatever it was probably had wings.’_

It was not a comforting thought. Upon closer inspection, they found a patch of grass that was flattened and disturbed. Someone had lain there, thrashing about. The strange clawed footprints led to it. Human tracks also surrounded the area, a lighter, smaller foot and a wider, heavier one.

Arthur knelt down and touched the ripped grass. _‘What manner of creature did they call here? And what did it do to you?’_

He almost didn’t want to think about it. The possibilities were endless. _‘And I don’t know enough about magical creatures to tell what it was just from the tracks.’_

The claw marks were too big for any bird of prey he knew of, so it could only be magic.

Straightening, Arthur saw the others walk back into the clearing together.

“The tracks lead out to a nearby stream or things they could forage for food, then turn back,” reported Leon.

“Why would they would stop at all?” asked Elyan. “You’d think they’d be trying to make as much distance as they could.”

“Some creature joined them.” Everyone looked to Percival. Those four words were all they needed to understand what the larger man was saying to them.

_‘They stopped here to wait for this creature, did something to Merlin, then left again, heading the same way they’ve been going all day.’_

With grave determination Arthur and the knights made certain their quarry returned to their cart before continuing down the road.

It took everything Arthur had to not throw caution to the winds and gallop away like the devil himself was on his heels. The longer Merlin stayed missing, the more he could feel a deep-seated absence in his chest he didn’t understand. The feeling only made Arthur all the more certain that Merlin was in trouble. He had never felt anything like it before.

Evening approached them and the clouds overhead gathered darkly before letting lose their burden of water. Rain came pouring down in sheets as the wind whipped up, slowing their progress to a crawl. Arthur could hear Gwaine cursing avidly from behind him while the wind blasted them in the face. Lightning struck ominously close to them, the thunder slamming into their eardrums like a battering ram, trying to force them to retreat. They all struggled on for a time, the storm growing angrier around them.

“It’s no use Sire!” came Leon’s voice, more than half drowned out by the rumbling thunder. “We need to find shelter and wait for the storm to pass!”

Arthur gritted his teeth as he tried to press forward, his horse braying nervously at him.

“We’ll lose them!” _‘They can’t be allowed to get away.’_

He could barely see his own hand in front of his face as he tried unsuccessfully to wipe the water out of his eyes. Arthur angrily admitted defeat in the face of the sheer wrath of the storm.

Beating a strategic retreat, they managed to find a rocky outcropping that sheltered them from the brunt of the storm. Though every now and then, the wind whipped around and threw water and sodden debris in their faces. They huddled together under the outcropping, bringing their horses around and turning the animals heads to face inside, away from the storm. It formed a kind of sodden protective wall of horse-flesh, but it wasn’t the most effective cover in the world.

Despite their improvised shelter the elements continued to pound them, drenching them through to their skins and chilling their bones. Lightning cracked immediately above them, making the already skittish horses whinny and rear in fright.

Arthur tried to stand defiant against the wind, but a fierce blast had him on his rear in the deepening mud faster than the could blink. He stood, growling at the sky, fully aware that he could not be heard over the ragging elements around him.

 _‘This was sent to stop us,’_ thought Arthur. He tried to glare up at the sky, but was slapped in the face with a massive glob of water that blinded him for a moment.

_‘…he’s more powerful than even he knows…’_

Those words came back to him now. He hoped that this storm, whatever it was, was not some twisted sorcerer testing out their newest toy.

* * *

Kilgharrah had long ago learned the value of patience. He found however, that once his strength returned to him, it was very difficult to sit in his cave and wait.

Wanting to check what might be happening with Merlin for himself, the old dragon took off and flew in the direction Merlin lay. Once in the air, he saw great clouds gathering not too far off, threatening a massive storm.

He noticed then that the air thrummed with magic. Ancient power pulsed around him, feeding into the clouds he saw forming.

Kilgharrah hovered there, starring with wide eyes at the storm about to bear down on the land. The magic in the air crackled with frightful intensity. A powerful entity he had never come across before was clearly furious.

The storm itself lay between Kilgharrah and the city of Camelot.

 _‘It’s forming to stop the King from reaching Merlin,’_ realized Kilgharrah.

Without warning, a shaft of air slammed into his side, sending him careening off in entirely the wrong direction if he wanted to find Merlin. He attempted to straighten and fly off around the shaft of air, but each time he moved he was rammed again, pushed farther away. Ice crystals formed around him before being flung at him like knives.

He would normally have paid them no head, except that he could feel the magic they held. And despite their tiny size, they _stung_ , and badly. The tiny spears slipped between his hardened scales and stuck there, paining him each time he moved.

An entity as ancient as time itself was manipulating the weather, stopping Camelot’s king and knights from reaching Merlin, as well as him. No matter how Kilgharrah fought the forces pushing him, he failed. The air pushed him far away, never allowing him to glimpse anything that could have been the party carrying Merlin with them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: I had no idea where this chapter was going to go. I had a vague idea of what I wanted/needed to happen here, but I didn’t really know how I was going to achieve it. I have no idea where exactly this came from, but I really like what’s going on here. An ancient entity stopping Arthur and Kilgharrah from reaching Merlin? Hmm, I can work with this!  
> Please Review! They are cookies along the road that keep me going, and I am always ecstatic to see them.


	16. What Comes Through the Door

Merlin gradually noticed a faint tugging sensation. It was quite strange when it started. Wherever he was there was no thought, no awareness. And yet he wasn’t unconscious. It was a kind of strange non-existence. If he could have thought, he might have liked it. He might have even felt safe.

The tugging became more noticeable as it pushed that plane of non-existence further away. Awareness trickled back to him. A new world began to open. He felt, vaguely, that something had followed him out of the non-existence. But the feeling was gone as soon as it came.

The tugging grew in strength, becoming a hard pull. Then it began to hurt. It was a soul-deep ache that began eating away at his happy bliss.

The pain was trying to strangle him, if he even could be strangled where he was. It began dragging him downward, sucking him into a black quagmire that pressed on him from all sides. It only sucked him in deeper if he dared to try and move.

Panic began to settle in as he struggled. He became aware once again of bleeding wounds that still gapped at him.

He hurt. Oh, how he hurt.

_‘…I’ve…here…before…?’_

He grasped for what might have been memories, trying to make sense of where he was. What he found only aggravated his growing agony. A castle of lies, built on a foundation of hope that was gone. Agony rushed though him, carving gouges out of his heart as it went.

He struggled, frantic, _‘…no…I didn’t…no choice…’_

He would have cried if he could have.

Just when it became too much for him, a light appeared. It was a familiar presence, comforting to him. It helped to push back the pain.

_‘…Aithusa…’_

_‘I’m here,’_

The light seeped through a crack in the door that led to his throbbing soul, a familiar warmth rising up to meet it.

But then he remembered what the light was. Just another lie he could never be forgiven for.

_‘…no…’_

This wasn’t right. He didn’t deserve comfort, didn’t deserve to be healed.

_‘…lied…I always lied…not right…’_

_‘You had no choice,’_

But was that true? The light was part of the lie, after all. It was just making it hurt more now, too.

_‘…always a choice…’_

_‘…always impossible…’_

_‘…always lie…betray…’_

_‘No! D-Merlin!’_

_‘…betrayed him…all of them…’_

_‘You never betrayed…’_

_‘…lied…always lying…lied about you…’_

_‘Merlin?’_

_‘…I betrayed…trust…stole…lied…because… you…’_

_‘…Daddy,’_

He could feel the light’s sorrow radiate towards him. It shook as it considered him, unsure of how to help. Unsure of itself.

He had lied and stole, and even caused death to wake the light. He had betrayed…to protect? Was that even possible? How could you betray trust to protect it? What was he protecting?

The lie, it was always the lies.

Pulses of pain radiated through him again.

_‘…I betrayed…always betray…not right…wrong…’_

_‘I am wrong?’_

He couldn’t answer that. Didn’t _want_ to answer it.

_‘Not here without you…never alive.’_

_‘…I stole…left another thief to die…’_

_‘You did not steal,’_ said the light, quivering with the words. _‘Cannot steal what never belonged.’_

_‘…but it was there…’_

_‘And I slept…without choice…you freed me.’_

_‘…free?’_

Was that important? Did it matter that the light had been trapped in an object owned by another? Hadn’t a thief, the other thief, wanted to control it, to enslave the light? The light could have never been free without him. Why was that? Did it matter?

_‘Daddy…my daddy.’_

_‘…I…hatched…you?’_

_‘Yes!’_ The light quivered happily, encouraging him on.

_‘You…never lived…before me?’_

_‘Yes, yes!’_

_‘…you…die…without me?’_

_‘I might have,’_

_‘I would have,’_

That was why he had freed the light. It could not have survived forever in it’s container. And others had wanted the light for themselves. Wanted to bend it to their will, forgetting that it had one of it’s own. The light could never have lived without him. He had saved it, freed it. Pure and beautiful light. It had needed him. It’s need had been far deeper than trust or loyalty.

The pain faded.

_‘My daddy…My Dragon Lord.’_

_‘…dragon lord…’_

It was what he was. The guardian of the not-yet-born. Kin of wonder. A brother by soul.

The door next to his heart opened fully then. The light rushed in like water bursting its damn, settling in his soul, weaving itself into his own fabric.

It didn’t matter that he had betrayed another to help the light. It could not have helped itself. It had been his duty.

The lies were still there. They still hurt, burning through his soul. But some of the gashes began to heal, filled instead by light.

He slipped into unconsciousness as the pain settled. He knew this was different from the non-existence. He existed, he just wasn’t aware anymore.

* * *

Kilgharrah realised very quickly that fighting whatever force was pushing him away from Merlin was going to get him nowhere. Though he was far from happy about it, he allowed himself to be swept away.

Almost as soon as he made that decision, the ice crystals stopped, the ones stuck between his scales melting before falling away harmlessly. He did not even feel a twinge anymore, the stinging simply gone.

_‘So whatever is pushing me away from him is not malicious. It does not wish me harm.’_

But why would it push him away from the young warlock, his dragon lord?

As he was swept way towards the east, Kilgharrah allowed his senses to expand and explore the feeling of magic in the air around him. Now that he was paying attention to it, he was surprised by how familiar it felt. There was a vein running through the magic very similar to the feel of Merlin’s power. Yet this was clearly not coming from the warlock. This was far to vast for that.

_‘He may be powerful, but he still has yet to come into his own. He could not command magic like this, thought perhaps at his height he may be able to come close.’_

That the magic felt so familiar and yet so strange to him was puzzling. One thing was communicated clearly through the magic’s touch though. Whatever entity was responsible meant no ill will. It was angry, but not at Kilgharrah.

_‘It feels more protective than anything,’_

And that was strange. Entities with this much power practically never touched events of the world unless someone summoned them for something.

_‘Merlin couldn’t have done this, not with the state he is in.’_

There were few others who had the power for such things. And even if someone had managed to summon the entity, such beings were not want to do as others pleased.

As he landed, now much further away from the young warlock than he had started, he wondered what this meant. He wondered even more as a gentle breeze blew past him, filling him with a sense of calm.

 _‘Whatever this may be, it does not mean harm to Merlin.’_ Of that much, he was certain.

But that didn’t explain why he had been forced away.

_‘…light…no fire…’_

The words reverberated through his head. He felt a deep disapproval surround him, and he knew.

_‘My presence would not help Merlin’s soul heal. I might’ve actually hurt him by going to him now.’_

He did not attempt to fly off in search of Merlin again. The magic left him be, but remained to watch him.

* * *

To say that Gwen was relieved when her duties for the day in Arthur’s absence were done was an understatement. She had been distracted the entire afternoon with her thoughts and questions about Merlin, Arthur, the knights.

_‘I don’t think he’s in danger. At least, not in the way everyone is worried about.’_

Where the sense of calm that filled her came from , she was not sure. Somehow, she recognized it as foreign. An outside influence that was affecting her. But it didn’t feel _wrong_ , it just felt…different. She knew she should trust the feeling.

More than anything she wanted for Arthur to come back, with Merlin. She wanted to talk to her friend, but she also wanted him to be able to talk to Arthur.

Of the two, Merlin had always been more free with his emotions, but he had still kept so much hidden. She wondered if there were hardships hiding in his smiles. They would have never even known if there were.

That Merlin respected and trusted Arthur, she was certain. Gaius had likely been so angry with him because of how he feared rejection would affect Merlin.

_‘He never asked for anything. It was always that you had to earn it.’_

Maybe Merlin had been waiting for the right time to tell them all. He had wanted to prove himself to them. If she had ever known him at all, Merlin would not have enjoyed lying to them for so long. Hopefully he was not tearing himself apart about it now.

Before she knew what she was doing, Gwen found herself climbing up to the battlements and gazing out at the countryside looking for a convoy of red-clad knights accompanied by the more gangly brown form of her friend. She was unsurprised to find Gaius was also there.

They stood in silence together for several heartbeats. Gwen began watching the clouds gather not too far to the north of the city. She frowned at them, noticing how they were so…localized. The growing storm looked strange to her, almost unnatural.

“It doesn’t look quite right, does it?”

Gwen turned to Gaius.

“Arthur can’t have gotten much farther than that storm.”

Rain began above them as lightning split the clouds away to the north.

“…It’s not moving on.”

“No, it is not,” said Gaius.

“What does it mean?” There was a long pause.

“When you think about Merlin’s…fate…do you feel calm?”

Gwen gaped at the old man as he stared intently back. “…yes…yes, I do.”

He nodded. “I as well.”

“Gaius?”

“Something has happened. Something beyond any of our understanding or control.”

Gwen was silent while she looked out towards the storm.

“I don’t think Arthur is going to be able to catch up to Merlin that easily.”

“What’s making that storm Gaius? What does this mean for Merlin?”

“I do not know,”

“But I don’t believe we need worry about Merlin’s safety. Something seems to be doing that for us.”

Somehow, she believed him. The wind blew towards them as they retreated inside. At it’s touch, Gwen felt again that calm that meant Merlin would be alright.

* * *

 _‘This is somehow all Arthur’s fault,’_ thought Gwaine as he huddled next to his fellow knights and tried to keep the horses from bolting. _‘And I’ll eat my own damn sword if this storm is natural.’_

The clouds had come out of nowhere. The rain had started all at once, no warning, no buildup. Suddenly they were getting what felt like the contents of every lake in the world dumped on their heads. _‘And Arthur, the stupid Princess that he is just tried to force his way through it.’_

He wanted to find Merlin and make sure he was alright as much as the next man. They were all worried about him, but Arthur seemed especially so.

 _‘Merlin’s been in tight scrapes before, after saving Princess. Even when that happened, Arthur wasn’t this frantic.’_ Perhaps that was in part because they had still had Merlin with them on those occasions.

Gwaine was more certain than ever that there was something big Arthur was not telling them, something that had happened between him and Merlin.

It had taken a while, but once they had found shelter and Arthur had stopped sending death glares at the sky, the elements seemed willing to give them a little break. The wind stopped pounding them against the rocks, and the rain switched direction suddenly so it was not being thrown in their faces. Of course, Arthur had to go and ruin it by trying to leave their sanctuary. He got blasted into the mud by sudden gale-force winds.

Oddly enough, it seemed like the storm only took offense to Arthur. It merely acted as a blockade for everyone else. Leon and Percival went to drag over a big log for more cover. When they walked out from under the overhang, the wind had picked up again around them, but died back down as they grabbed the log and brought it back to their group.

_‘If Arthur had done that, he would have been flat on his butt and neck deep in mud in the blink of an eye.’_

That thought was proved true seconds latter when Arthur tried again to leave their cover. He growled at the sky and was answered with a crack of lightning and a slap of thunder that shook the earth moments latter.

“This is magic! Someone is trying to stall us!” yelled the king.

“Don’t see how that changes anything Princess!” yelled Gwaine over the rain and the thunder. “Magic or not, we still can’t travel through it!”

“We have to try!”

“We did try Sire,”

_‘Thank the gods for Leon, ever the voice of reason.’_

“All we can do is wait for the storm to pass.”

“We’ll lose the trail!”

“It’s already lost in this rain. Any tracks will have been washed clean away,” said Elyan.

For some reason, a breeze blew past them, and everyone but Arthur suddenly looked a lot calmer. Gwaine felt like something was telling him Merlin would be ok, and for some reason, he believed it.

 _‘It doesn’t seem to have sent the same message to Arthur,’_ noted Gwaine as the man took on a stricken look before gazing out into the storm. He was slapped in the face with a small branch before he retreated back to the group.

“As soon as the storm passes, we head north.”

Lightning flashed and thunder rumbled overhead.

_‘Fat chance whoever started this is going to let us get Merlin that easily.’_

The rain continued to pound the ground, but left them be for the most part. An obstacle rather than a danger. Elyan managed to find a pile of wood wedged between a couple rocks that was still dry, and started a fire to keep the chill of the rain away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: So, does this answer a few questions from the last chapter? Let me know what you guys think!  
> Can anyone guess what the entity might be? I want to hear your guesses!


	17. Searching Roots

Arzela watched the storm gather behind them, growing in strength until it made the evening sky black instead of the darkening navy it should have been. She could feel the magic in the air, feeding into the storm. But she was certain it would not head their way.

 _‘It looks to be following us,’_ thought Arzela, _‘And yet it has not come any closer than when it first formed.’_

_‘It’s almost as if the storm was created to cover our tracks and stop anyone from being able to follow us.’_

That was a very interesting thought if it was true.

As the storm grew, their charge began to stir restlessly again. His dragon companion attempted to comfort him before moving to his injured shoulder and breathing magic onto it as she had done before.

Arzela watched the dragon with interest while they travelled. She had no real idea what was going on. She was fully aware that the two were likely engrossed in a plane of existence buried so deep in the man’s mind it may have never come to light under any other circumstances.

But something was different this time. The dragon shifted and whined as if she could feel the man’s pain too.

That strange wind blew past them again, caressing the man’s skin and the dragon with it’s touch. Arzela could sense the magic in the touch.

Despite her gift, she did not have magic herself. True magic was something she had never been given, and she was not inclined to pursue study. The one gift she did have was a _form_ of magic, but it was not quite the same as what sorcerers or those born with magic used. Because of her gift, she could sense when magic was being used near her. At least when it was strong magic. What she could feel now was like nothing she had ever experienced before. And it wasn’t coming from the man, nor from the dragon. There was _something_ else here that was responsible for the magic she could feel. Whatever it was, was very powerful.

She watched as the man groaned in pain before curling into himself, the dragon being dragged along with him.

_‘They both seem trapped in some lost plane now,’_

Arzela wished she knew what was going on. She wished she could help. But if a dragon was getting lost in the planes of the man’s soul, she knew she would have no chance of helping him.

The dragon stopped breathing magic on the man’s shoulder and curled up against him in a trance-like state as the wind blew against them again. The two curled into a ball against one another. The dragon used her wings and tail – anything she could – to envelope her dragon lord.

She became worried when the dragon began breathing heavily and shaking.

“Tadek, we need to find a place to stop. Something’s happening, and I’m not sure it’s something good.”

The rain was still only dusting over them, despite the angry tempest that lay in their wake. It took time to find, but eventually they reached a large cavern where they could dry off out of the rain. They drove the cart into it and began setting up camp.

The dragon and man were still curled into one another.

“I think we have to move them together,” said Tadek, “We don’t know what might happen if we separate them. It might just make everything worse.”

“Your probably right.”

It wasn’t actually as hard as they thought it would be to move the two from the cart next to the small fire they had started, so tightly bound together were they.

 _‘I wish I knew what’s going on,’_ thought Arzela as she watched the pair shiver in unison.

They draped a couple blankets over them, then sat back wondering what else they could possibly do to help. That was when the real surprise of the day started.

Their cavern was large enough at the mouth to allow a few small trees to grow happily out of the rocks. The roots had grown along cracks in the stone floor of the cavern, seeking out any place where water might collect. Their camp was close to the mouth of the cave, so there was the odd root growing in a crack on the ground around them. They had placed the pair on a clear space of flat stone where no roots grew.

Tadek wandered over and draped another blanket over the shivering pair, then suddenly yelped and beat a hasty retreat to the other side of the cavern.

“What’s wrong with you?” asked Arzela.

“The roots Arzela, look at the roots!”

She frowned at him, raising an eyebrow before turning to look towards the floor around the pair. What she saw made her jaw drop. _‘What the actual hell!?’_

The roots littering the floor were glowing the ethereal gold of magic and growing longer as she watched, reaching for the huddled pair on the ground.

Curiosity getting the better of her, Arzela carefully stepped closer to better see what was happening.

“Arzela!”

She waved off her friend as she tentatively removed the blankets covering the pair. The glowing roots had reached them and were encircling the small points of contact between them. Wary of touching anything, Arzela bent down and saw how the roots were growing in circles, lacing the two creatures together wherever they touched. The roots were so fine she was afraid she would tear them just be breathing.

Up close, Arzela noticed too that they were not simply glowing the usual gold of magic. There was an earthy-green tinge to the gold.

 _‘Who is this man?’_ thought Arzela as she watched in awe the scene unfolding in front of her.

Tadek approached behind her cautiously, trying to see for himself what was happening.

The feel of magic lay about them, making everything, the rock, the air, the pools of rainwater, all feel as if they were alive. It was exhilarating and humbling at the same time.

Arzela watched as the tiny roots slipped under the man’s shirt and the bandages at his injured shoulder. Suddenly he sucking in a sharp breath, startled whimpers escaping his mouth. The dragon shivered at his side. The roots glowed brighter as they held her steady next to the man. He continued to whimper in pain for several long moments.

Arzela and Tadek were wary of approaching any closer as they watched.

The man shuddered, sucking in air as tiny filaments of glowing root reached up to touch his neck at the base of his skull.

_‘What kind of magic is this?’_

Arzela had never even heard of anything like this before, and she found it frightening. And yet, she knew this was not malicious. The touch of magic around them belied any ill-intent.

Both the dragon and man suddenly stilled before seeming to explode with light. Arzela shielded her eyes with her arm. Sable brayed a startled whinny from where he was tied at the caves entrance.

When next she chanced a glance at the pair, she found them encased in a glowing cocoon of magic. The roots entangling them glowed a pure, radiant gold. The light pulsed as it flowed back and forth between dragon and man.

Arzela and Tadek both watched, speechless. Even Sable fixated on the pair on the ground, utterly silent now.

How long it lasted, neither of them knew. They were too awed to consider something as insignificant as the passage of time.

All of a sudden, the light retreated, drawn into the breast of both the dragon and the man before disappearing entirely. The enchanted roots flickered for a moment, then went out. They crumbled into dust before blowing away in a breeze that wasn’t a breeze.

Nothing moved for a long time. The pair looked deflated where they lay.

Arzela approached again, slipping her fingers against the man’s neck and searching for a heartbeat from the dragon’s chest. She found both heartbeats strong and steady. And the man was breathing freely for the first time since they had found him. Both were now sound asleep on the cavern floor.


	18. To Reach In

Kilgharrah was restless. Now he had lost contact with Merlin _and_ Aithusa. And he did not know why.

He would have been extremely worried, if he had been allowed to be. Whatever entity had pushed him away from the young warlock was still watching him, making sure he did not approach any closer. Every time he felt himself become too worried for Merlin, the entity’s magic would fill the air around him.

 _‘Have peace,’_ it would speak in his mind as it filled him with a sense of calmness.

Kilgharrah was crouched in the grass, his muscles locked as he shook with trepidation. The magic around him was doing it’s best to calm him, but it was not working.

_‘Why have you pushed me away from my dragon lord? What have you done, and where is Aithusa?’_

He hadn’t expected the entity to answer him. It didn’t surprise him when he was met with only silence and quivering magic.

He waited, muscles shaking with the strain of being so tense for so long. The magic tried again to sooth his anxiety, but was unsuccessful.

He sat there wondering if it would be worth it to search out Merlin and Aithusa despite the entity.

Unnoticed, the magic around him began to gather. By the time he realised it was reaching into him, it was too late to stop anything. He tottered for a moment before tipping over and falling heavily to the ground, suddenly fast asleep.

* * *

Arthur and the knights were still being hemmed in by the storm.

 _‘At least we’re dry where we are, and there was wood for a fire,’_ thought Arthur bitterly.

Everyone huddled next to the warmth. Nobody in their group dared say a word, each man too busy with their own thoughts. _‘The one who would usually draw us all out isn’t here.’_

It seemed he had only just begun to realise how much Merlin did for him.

_‘No, how much he does for us all.’_

He moodily jabbed at the fire with a spare stick. He felt strange for some reason. There was a cold feeling in his chest that had nothing to do with the rain or the mud. He wasn’t sure what it was from, but it unnerved him.

_‘It feels like Merlin’s slipping away. But I don’t think it’s because he’s dying.’_

He was surprised when the thought entered his head. And yet, somehow he knew it was right. Merlin was slipping away from him somehow, someway.

If anyone had been paying more attention, they might have noticed how the grass around Arthur was beginning to reach for him, gently touching whatever part of him it could reach. But Arthur did not notice, and neither did anyone else.

The cold feeling in his chest intensified, becoming almost painful. Without warning something was _yanked_ right out from his heart. He yelped when it happened, startling the knights who whipped around to stare at him.

Before anyone could do anything, Arthur’s eyes rolled back in his head and he tipped over backwards, out cold.

The knights all jumped and ran for him, noticing for the first time the strange way the grass had been reaching for their king before it wilted and fell back, looking no different from any old grass you might see. The knights tried to rouse Arthur but were met with no success.

Eventually they moved him off the grass onto a rock before climbing up onto ones themselves. Each man eyed the ground with trepidation, but nothing further seemed to happen.

* * *

Merlin felt himself come back from whatever unaware state he had been in. For a moment, he panicked and his pain tried to gather around him again. He felt alone, and it frightened him. It didn’t take him long to locate the presence that was Aithusa, and he calmed.

He drifted with the ebb and flow of wherever it was he existed at the moment. He was being held safely away from most of the pain, but there was still more than enough seeping through to him.

It took him a long time to realise that something was different. Aithusa had actively reached for him the other times he had been aware of her. Now though she simply brushed against him passively, not unlike how he had been engaging with her. He felt like something was holding both them, waiting.

Time didn’t pass in this place, or at least if it did, he wasn’t aware of it. Aithusa and he sat there mutely, doing nothing but existing next to one another. After a long wait, that may have been seconds or may have been years, threads of warmth started to appear. They weaved between him and Aithusa, stitching them together.

It stung as the needle passed through him, making his awareness quiver. He felt echoes of his own shivers drift towards him from Aithusa, but somehow he knew it was worse for him.

There was still a deep ache in the centre of his being. It throbbed at him. The fringes of it had begun to heal, to fill with light from Aithusa. He felt the needle and thread draw those filled wounds shut, pinching off the skin so it would heal with the light still inside.

Aithusa’s presence got closer to him. It shivered just as much as he did while the needle passed back and forth between them, drawing them ever closer.

Satisfied with how close they had become, the thread tied off and the needle withdrew. He felt like that was the end of it, and he prepared himself to drift into that blank bliss again. But something else was there with them, and it had other ideas.

He felt a hand plunge right into the centre of the pain he still felt. It sent an angry jolt through his whole being, and he screamed, or yelped, or something. A bleeding gouge was brought up to the surface, the epicentre of all his pain.

His being shrank in on itself, as far away from that wound as it could get. But the threads linking him to Aithusa dragged her along with him. He didn’t sense her cower in the face of the wound as he was. It was grounding.

Whatever that other presence was, it drew out a once gossamer thread from the gapping wound. The thread was frayed, almost broken, practically missing whole pieces. And it linked to something far, far away.

The strange presence began rooting around inside the wound, looking for something. He felt himself waver, drifting towards his unknowing bliss as pain flared across his awareness. He wanted to cry, to shrink away. It was so painful. A sense of soothing calmness came from the unknown presence. It was telling him to hold on just a little longer. The threads linking him to Aithusa made sure she was able to help him stay in their state of awareness.

While the unknown presence searched for the root of the damaged thread, he became aware of a hole opening up in Aithusa’s presence. She quivered as it yawned at her, her whimpers reaching him. His attention shifted away from his own wound, switching instead to Aithusa’s. He reached for the hole in her presence while she shook, gently prodding it’s edges. When he made contact, he realised it wasn’t pain Aithusa was feeling, but a deep longing. Her whole being wanted that little hole filled. He gently stroked it, wondering. Aithusa grasped for him, pleading him to come closer.

The unknown presence had finally found the root of the broken thread in his bleeding wound and drew it up to the surface. His whole being shuddered as it rose. Once it was at the surface, he felt the pain blossom outwards again. He just wanted it to stop.

He pressed against the root, wanting to push it away, and realised something. The root filled a hole in his being, just like Aithusa had. The only difference was that Aithusa’s hole did not contain the root of a thread.

The unknown presence reached for Aithusa’s empty space and brought it up next to the bleeding root, then waited.

He understood. He had a choice. He could fill the gap that had opened in Aithusa, his dragon kin, or he could keep the damaged thread and hope it stopped bleeding some day soon. But what did it mean to abandon the wound?

He reached forward and felt tentatively along the damaged thread, looking for the other end. The unknown presence supported him as he stretched out, searching. Finally he brushed against the other end of the thread. There was yet another presence, this one unaware of him. This end of the thread was less damaged, but the root was more eroded than his own, if you looked past all the blood.

He retreated back towards his own end of the thread, and considered. He didn’t want to abandon it. It bled, and it hurt, and it was broken perhaps beyond repair, but he didn’t want it gone completely.

He felt the unknown presence press words into his mind. _‘Not abandon. Just make less important.’_

He considered that as Aithusa continued to shiver, held by the unknown presence. He could keep the damaged thread, just stop the bleeding by giving another thread more prominence. He had made his decision.

He reached out for the gap in Aithusa’s presence, took hold of it, pressing against it. They both shuddered as a golden thread sprang up from his centre and linked with Aithusa’s, filling her gap with a new, healthy root.

His own broken root quaked as spikes rammed their way through his awareness. It was plucked out of the gapping wound and settled somewhere else in his soul by the unknown presence. It had stopped bleeding, but the wound itself remained.

The unknown presence dropped everything it had been holding, allowing it all to settle where it belonged once again. He convulsed as the would sank back to his centre. But the unknown presence brushed tenderly against his mind, pushing words before it.

_‘Sleep now.’_

He felt Aithusa fall into a blank bliss just as he did, and he knew no more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Ok, so I got the writing juices flowing a little too fast with the last chapter, so I almost had this one finished in the same day (It would have been finished had I decided it was a good idea to sacrifice some sleep last night). I guess maybe this answers a couple questions raised last chapter? Maybe? Kind-of-sort-of?  
> Anyways, let me know what you guys think of it! All comments welcome! Thanks for reading.


	19. Messages

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Sorry this one’s a little latter than usual, I got distracted by reading other fics (XD)  
> For anyone who likes Merthian fics, “Anothers Favour” is what I was reading, and I quite like it. Especially the beautiful little nugget of hilarity at the end.  
> Anyways, enjoy!

Arzela remained in a state of awed shock as she draped a blanket over the sleeping magician and dragon. She walked around to join Tadek on the other side of the fire before turning to watch the strange pair as he was.

“Who is this man?” asked Tadek, eyeing the face of their sleeping charge with unbridled awe in his eyes.

“Were that I could tell you, my friend.”

“Do _you_ have any idea what happened?”

“No more than you I’m afraid. Though from how even his breathing is now, I’m inclined to think it was a good thing.”

The wind blew a sprinkling of water onto their backs from the entrance of the cave. Arzela turned to watch the rain outside.

“There’s something here beyond us that’s responsible for what happened, isn’t there?” asked Tadek after a moment.

“Yes. There must be.”

“And we don’t have any idea what that something might be.”

It was a simple statement of fact.

“True,”

“But I think whatever that something is, it’s happy with us for the help we’ve given this man.”

Tadek turned to watch the rain outside with a thoughtful expression to match hers.

 _‘I would dearly like to speak to this man,’_ thought Arzela as she turned to took at him again. _‘I have so many questions.’_ There was however every possibility that the man would not have any answers for her. _‘He is not likely to remember a lot of what has happened. If indeed he remembers anything at all.’_

Shaking herself, she prodded Tadek. “We should make some supper, and get him something to eat and drink. The dragon too, if we can manage it.”

Tadek pulled out their provisions and settled down to cook them a stew they would be able to feed the unconscious man. Arzela moved off to Sable and brushed him down. He watched the injured man and the sleeping dragon with bright eyes as she worked.

“I bet you could tell us something of what’s going on here, couldn’t you boy?”

He huffed at her, flicking an ear in her direction before returning his attention to the sleeping man and dragon.

Arzela stroked Sable’s soft nose as she brushed out his gossamer black mane. He nickered at her, pushing against her hand as she continued to groom him. Arzela smiled at him as she tied his nose bag on for him to eat.

By the time she moved back towards the fire, Tadek had a steaming bowl of stew ready for her. Another was set aside to cool for the man to be fed latter.

They ate in silence, listening to the rain and the soft crackling of their fire.

“What do you think is going to happen once we get back to Vartee?”

Arzela glanced up at Tadek before looking towards their charge. “I don’t pretend to have the faintest idea.”

“He must be very powerful,”

“We know nothing for certain,” said Arzela, “Although, I can’t help but feel you are right.” That there was a powerful magical force so invested in the man’s safety could only mean that he was very powerful, or very important. _‘More than likely, he’s both.’_

They finished their own meal before moving over to the sleeping pair on the cavern floor. Tadek sat the man up as Arzela spooned him the stew, stroking his throat encouraging him to swallow. When the bowl was empty, she fed the man small sips of water before turning to the sleeping dragon.

“I don’t think the stew would be very good for _her_ ,” said Tadek.

Arzela inclined her head. “We should still try giving her some water. We don’t know what happened, or how it might have affected her. It’ll be good for her.”

Between the two of them, they managed to get the dragon to swallow some water. It was a significantly more difficult chore than with the man. They ended up having to pry open her jaws rather forcefully before they could get any water into the dragon at all. Their chore finished, they allowed her mouth the snap shut, razor sharp teeth clicking back together before laying her back down to rest.

Arzela fetched her medicine bag as Tadek filled a bowl of water for her. She pulled out the last of her healing herbs and crushed them into the bowl with water. Bringing the bowl along with her, she walked back to her charge. She peeled off his shirt once again, finding it sticky with cold sweat. She cleaned the man first with a damp cloth before peeling back the bandages at his shoulder.

She was very pleased to see that the red lines had retreated considerably since she had last seen them. The lines on his chest were all but gone. The ones on his arm now only spread as far down as the large muscle at his shoulder. When she examined him closer, she noticed that the red lines on his arm had left the faintest white scars on the skin. The lines weren’t much thicker than a single hair, barely noticeable at all. The man’s neck and shoulder were still crisscrossed with angry red lines, but it looked much better than it had.

She carefully spread the numbing paste over the affliction as the man shifted restlessly in his sleep. Once she tied off the last of the bandages, he lay still again.

Tadek dug out one of his own unused shirts and the two of them worked it over their charge’s head.

Arzela stood up and dusted off her knees before returning her things to her pack and washing out the now empty bowl of numbing balm.

Turning towards where Sable had been tied, Arzela found the horse with his halter on, the reigns held by Tadek.

“Be careful out there,”

“I will be.” She smiled at her friend. “You know I’m perfectly capable of riding bareback.”

“In this kind of storm?”

“I guess that just means I’ll need to hold on that much tighter to Sable’s back.”

She climbed onto the horses back and turned his head towards the mouth of the cave before looking back at her friend. “I should only be a few hours. The nearest town shouldn’t be too far off.” Tadek nodded before waving her off and heading back over to their fire.

Arzela faced forwards again and clucked at Sable, shaking the reigns once to get him to move. He whinnied happily at her.

_‘Sable always likes it when I ride bareback.’_

She thought she knew why. It allowed him to _feel_ her on his back, without a barrier between them making communication more cumbersome.

As she rode through the rain, she hoped to find a friend of her people settled somewhere in the town. They did not usually allow outsiders to learn of the entrances to their realm, for various reasons. Foremost among those was that they allowed magic, and did not want their closest neighbour, Camelot, to find out.

_‘Aelwen will allow an exception for this though. She cannot forbid it without denying the poor man the help he needs.’_

The rain seemed to let up a little as she rode off in the direction of the town.

* * *

Merlin was flying.

But no, that wasn’t quite right. He couldn’t fly, at least not on his own. As far as he knew.

It was more like he was remembering having flown. But he had never flown, not with wings of his own to propel him through the air.

If this was a memory, it was not his memory. It belonged to someone else. But who was that someone, he wondered?

The memories floating towards him were pleasant. They were happy things of freedom and flight.

It was a welcome reprieve from what he could feel pulsing with pain in his own past.

It was a long time before he realised whose memories he was seeing. Regardless of that knowledge, he was at a complete loss as to why he was seeing them. He enjoyed it, nevertheless.

* * *

Aithusa could feel a great pulse of magic around her. Within that pulse was the very same presence that had held up her soul, opening a hole she had never known, allowing her dragon lord to make the choice of filling the gap, or not. She had felt such a deep ache, wanting him to fill the gap, and yet she had been unable to tell him.

In the end, it had been his choice. Though she knew the magic presence was the reason her lord had been allowed to make that choice in the first place.

She was aware of a faint tug on the back of her mind. She knew it must have had something to do with the thread linking her to her lord. It may have been that he was allowed by their new connection to see her memories, few though they may be.

She began to feel herself slip out of her own mind into memories that were not actually hers. She was seeing her lord’s past as if through his own eyes.

All the while, that presence was with her, making sure she did not become overwhelmed. And oh, how much there was that could do so if she had been allowed to be.

* * *

Arzela reached the town without any problems.

The first thing she did was head to the nearest inn and ask the patron there for parchment and quill. Her letter to Aelwen written, she made her way out of the roadhouse and into the town.

There were few people moving about as she made her way to what she knew from her inquiries was the home of a trusted friend of her people. She tied Sable to a tree branch in front of the person’s home and knocked on the door.

The person who opened it bore the symbol of the Azure on the side of their neck. _‘Brilliant. An Azure will be fully capable of sending word to Vartee without needing to dilute our peoples secrets any.’_

Recognizing her for one of their peoples warriors, the Azure moved aside and waved her in with a friendly smile.

Once inside, Arzela looked around the humble dwelling before spotting a beautiful eagle sitting quietly on it’s perch with it’s beak tucked under a wing. After a short conversation, the Azure took her letter and tied it to their eagle’s leg before setting it lose in the growing night to deliver it’s message.

“Word should reach Vartee by early tomorrow morning at the latest.”

“Thank you Azure,” said Arzeal as she made ready to leave. A heavy sigh escaping her as she did so. “Even so, aid cannot come soon enough.”

“All will be well. And may the water warm you.”

“And the snows part for you.”

Arzela left then. She untied Sable and climbed onto his back before turning to head for their camp feeling happy that healers would soon be on their way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: This chapter was actually more difficult to write than the others. It could’ve gone one of two different ways at this point, and for my first attempt, I picked the wrong direction. So, naturally, I dove into other stories and crammed my head full of completely unrelated plots before coming back and writing the rest of this chapter in one go. All is well with the world.  
> Let me know what you guys think!  
> “May the water warm you.” (XD)


	20. The Question of Intent

Gaius was put out, to say the least. He was certain something terrible had happened to his ward, but he had no idea what. _‘And gods above know that this isn’t the first time.’_ It probably wouldn’t be the last time either.

He wanted to worry over his ward, but he recognized that something was settling a calmness in his mind every time he tried. He wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or a bad one.

 _‘At least I know it’s not Morgana doing this. She wouldn’t take the time to calm an old man’s worries if she had kidnapped Merlin.’_ Nor did he believe she had the power to do so over a large distance. _‘Since that storm out there must be part of the same magic that is affecting Guinevere and I, and it’s more than half a days ride out of the city.’_

He wanted so desperately to believe that his ward was ok. But he knew the boy better than that. Nothing was ever simple or straightforward with him. They had always been required to wade through a convoluted mess of scheming enemies and diversionary lies.

But still that outside force seemed to seep into his mind and ease out his worries. He was able to feel a trickle of magic, raw and untamed but vaguely familiar. He felt himself fall into a deep sleep he knew his mind would not have allowed him to have if left to it’s own devices.

* * *

The night passed for Arzela, Tadek and their sleeping charges without any more strange happenings or beautiful, unexplained magic.

Tadek spent a long time after Arzela returned from the town trying to convince her to rest. “You stayed up all last night with the man – no don’t you dare deny it! I know you better than that.”

Arzela frowned at him. “If something happens in the middle of the night – ”

“I will deal with it,” said Tadek, cutting her off before she had a chance to get into her stride. “I know some medicine just the same as you Arzela. And if I can’t handle it on my own, I’ll wake you. But as long as that does not happen, you need to _go to sleep_.”

Arzela grumbled malcontentedly for a while longer before she finally gave up and went to bed. _‘It’s not like I’ll be able to argue with him now anyways. Not when he had a valid point and is set on me not staying up for another night.’_

Nothing interesting happened for the rest of the night. The light rain was still trickling outside their sanctuary in the morning when Arzela woke to find her companion slumped against the most uncomfortable rock in the whole cave. His efforts however, still had not been enough to stop him from succumbing to sleep. She chuckled softly to herself as she silently got up to start the new day.

If they made good time, they could reach Vartee by the end of the day. _‘And hopefully a healer will meet us along the way.’_

* * *

Gwaine and the rest of the knights were too worried, now about _both_ Arthur and Merlin, to be able to get much in the way of sleep.

_‘It seems like the storm’s happy Princess is out cold though. It’s still bad out there, but not like it was.’_

None of them had so much as touched the ground since they had seen the strange way the grass had reached for their king right before his collapse.

 _‘I might not know much about magic, but I’m pretty sure that no ordinary sorcerer could have done that.’_ If the source of the storm was not exactly human, it would go a long way to explaining _that_ strange bit of magic. He still couldn’t fathom why it had a personal grudge against Arthur though.

_‘At least Princess doesn’t look like he’s hurt. Leon might have had even more of a panic attack then he already is.’_

None of them got very much sleep. And they weren’t exactly sure if they could call whatever state Arthur was in “sleep”, so Gwaine wasn’t _too_ annoyed about it. He was too busy contemplating what force in the world with strange, powerful magic would have an interest in Merlin.

There was some feel in the air that was familiar, but Gwaine could not place the slight sense of déjà vu he was getting.

_‘Strange things always happen around Merlin.’_

It had taken him a laughably long time to realise it, but it was true. The other knights and he had come to regard Merlin as a kind of good luck charm. Whenever they went on quests with him, it always seemed like the world around them was surreptitiously working to their advantage. He couldn’t count the number of times when what seemed like perfectly healthy tree branches dropped on bandit’s heads, or roots seemed to grab at enemy ankles, tripping them.

 _‘Maybe there was always some force out there invested in Merlin’s safety, so whenever he was around, that thing decided to help the rest of us out too.’_ It was a very wild theory, but it wouldn’t surprise him to learn it was true.

 _‘That’s just like Merlin. Being so friendly with everyone that you can’t help but want to protect him.’_ He had no idea what it might mean if he was right. And he had even less of an idea of what it would mean if he was wrong.

A groaning sound came from Arthur’s rock close to the time that should have been morning.

“Sire!” came Leon’s very relieved sounding exclamation.

“Agh, what happened? And why am I sleeping on a rock rather than the ground?”

Gwaine glanced at all the others, who had sprung upright atop their own rocks upon Arthur’s awakening. Arthur looked around at them too with a confused expression. When nobody seemed very inclined to say anything, Gwaine sighed and took the plunge. “Well, you see Princess, the rest of us didn’t want to be groped by some magic grass and then pass out too.”

“Gwaine!” yelled Leon.

Gwaine just shrugged at him as he watched Arthur’s eyes flick towards the ground looking both confused and a little worried.

“Do you know what happened?” asked Elyan after a long pause.

“…No…I just remember…I don’t know.”

 _‘He’s certainly holding something back,’_ thought Gwaine, _‘Probably has something to do with feelings then. Princess was always crap with those.’_

“Are you alright?”

“I think so. I don’t feel any different.”

The storm had picked up again now that Arthur was awake.

“Well, I guess we’ll all just have to sit pretty on our rocks and hope the storm decides it’s finished punishing Princess soon.”

Arthur shot him a warning look, but then turned a contemplative eye towards the storm.


	21. Something Lost and Something Gained

Arzela woke Tadek from his uncomfortable sleep before moving about to check on their charges and get breakfast started for them. At her prodding, Tadek jerked awake, only just catching himself before tipping over.

“Arzela! I wasn’t sleeping,”

“Hmm, sure you weren’t.”

Tadek attempted to splutter out an apology.

“It’s fine. No harm done, this time. Just try not to fall asleep on watch again alright?”

She stood up and moved off to the coals of their fire, building it up with what little dry wood they had to start cooking breakfast. Looking back over at her friend, she quirked an eyebrow at him.

“Besides, it’s not for lack of trying that your weren’t able to stay awake, judging by that crick in your neck.”

Rubbing said crick, Tadek’s eyes took on a far away look. “Still, I should have been able to stay awake. Something could have happened, and we wouldn’t have had any warning.”

He glanced with calculating eyes out at the glistening rain beyond the mouth of the cave. “I just felt so…calm, and…safe…I couldn’t help it, even though I tried.”

Arzela turned to watch the rain too. “Then given everything that’s happened, I don’t think falling asleep on watch was really your fault my friend.”

The rest of the morning went without incident. After Tadek and Arzela ate their breakfast, they saw to the needs of their – now multiple – charges. The dragon had not woken since the night before. Though it appeared as if there was a frown marring the reptilian features, she did not seem to be in any danger.

The man looked calm and content, perhaps even happy.

By the time they were packed with their charges hidden under a shielding tarp, the rain had stopped.

As they travelled farther north, the storm from the other night continued to dog their footsteps, always just far enough away to not affect them. The feel of magic that had permeated the air yesterday evening was gone.

 _‘Perhaps whatever was responsible for last night has exhausted itself?’_ thought Arzela. But she knew that couldn’t be it. _‘It’s more likely there is nothing more for that entity to do. Perhaps now it is truly up to the man, should he be able to recover.’_

* * *

Arthur was able to put on a unconcerned front for the knights after the initial shock of learning what had happened.

As the night wore on, some of the knights managed to fall asleep, despite their rocky perches. Leon continued to look concernedly at him. “Are you sure your alright?” he asked when the others had finally started to fill the space with their snoring.

“I’m fine.”

“What happened?”

Arthur glanced at Leon out of the corner of his eye. He could remember a cold feeling in his chest right before the sensation of something being ripped from him. It had startled him, making him cry out, and apparently, pass out as well.

_‘I don’t know what that was, or what I might have lost. But I have a feeling I’m going to miss whatever it was before too long.’_

He thought the thing he lost had something to do with Merlin. What that was though, he had no idea.

“I don’t know what happened. But I don’t feel any different from before.”

Here he glared out at the storm only for lightning to flash angrily at him, as if in warning. “I just want this blasted storm to be over so we can do what we came here to do.” _‘And let the gods above allow it to not be too late.’_

Leon looked somewhat relieved after their conversation, and he settled down with Arthur to keep watch. Several hours latter Arthur and Leon woke Percival for the next shift.

Arthur tried to get some sleep, he really did. But the rock he was perched on was not very comfortable. And he couldn’t help but wonder what had been taken from him.

* * *

The day passed by pleasantly for Arzela and her companions. Just before midday their tranquil travelling was interrupted by the dragon waking up.

 _‘It’s a good thing we haven’t seen anyone else all day,’_ thought Arzela when the dragon made them jump out of their skins with an ear-splitting shriek.

The little protected space they had placed their charges in was not made for the flailing wings of a panicking dragon, no matter how small. They stopped as the tarp covering the dragon collapsed on top of her, trapping her in it’s folds as she flailed wildly trying to get free. It took them a good twenty minutes to untangle her.

 _‘What has happened now?’_ thought Arzela as the dragon lay on the ground, all appendages splayed out while she panted.

“Are you alright?”

The dragon seemed to finally focus on her before giving a squawk as if to say _“No, not really,”_.

Looking around with worry in her eyes, the dragon fluttered over to the injured man and settled carefully on his chest. She chirped at him softly before nuzzling him, humming mournfully in his ear.

_‘She looks even more worried than she was yesterday when she first found us.’_

What had caused this obvious shift in the dragon’s behaviour was a mystery. _‘Though it probably has something to do with what happened last night.’_

She settled down laying across his chest as he slept on.

 _‘It almost looks like she’s hugging him,’_ thought Arzela as she and Tadek strung the tarp more securely over the pair, hiding them once again from view.

The dragon watched the man with a feverish intensity, her wings draped over him, her tail curled around one of his legs like a clinging, protective blanket.

_‘There is no end to the questions the last couple of days has risen.’_

Arzela wished that the help coming from Vartee would hurry on it’s way.


	22. Help Arrives

Aithusa woke with an angry shriek. That last memory of her lord’s – _‘No, I shouldn’t call him my lord, it would make him uncomfortable,’_ thought Aithusa while she tried to make sense of the world around her. _‘Merlin. His name’s Merlin.’_

_‘My Merlin.’_

She jerked her head up when she woke, flinging herself backwards, away from the memory, away from the pained anger of a distraught king.

Regardless of what she actually hit, Aithusa could only remember feeling how her – how Merlin had crashed into a hard stone wall. She flailed out her wings blindly, but they hit and got caught up in something.

There was noise around her, but she couldn’t make anything out. In her mind, she was being suffocated by the tangling darkness around her just like Merlin had been before all this happened. She continued to screech in panic as everything from Merlin’s last memory assaulted her, seeming to play out in her own reality.

She didn’t know how long it took, but eventually she found herself splayed out on the ground, the blessed sun beading down around her. _‘It’s not actually happening. It’s not happening to me. It was night…in that…in that memory…it didn’t happen to me.’_

She took in a great lungful of clean air, trying to calm her racing thoughts. The presence that had seemed somehow familiar in a strange way was gone now. She had felt it valiantly attempt to soften the blows Merlin’s memories had rained down upon her. For the most part, it had been successful. But that last one, the rejection Merlin had suffered from his soul-bonded king, that had simply been too much.

“Are you alright?”

Aithusa snapped back to reality, dragging her mind out of everything she had learned to focus in on the two humans around her. They were both watching her warily, unsure of what to do.

Immediately Aithusa realised she was no longer laying next to Merlin. She whipped her head around, frantically searching for him. _‘Where’s Merlin? He has to be okay. I have to make sure he’s okay.’_

When she still couldn’t see him, she sniffed the air looking for his scent. Thankfully she found it coming from the cart. _‘The other humans must have taken me out when I began to struggle so I wouldn’t hurt him,’_ thought Aithusa as she flew over to Merlin’s side again.

She knew he was still locked away in his pain, but she could sense now that it was farther away from him. It was more bearable, though it still stung badly.

She snuggled up and draped her wings over him while curling her tail around his leg. She nuzzled his face, humming softly in his ear. _‘I’m here Merlin. I won’t ever hurt you like that. I promise.’_

_‘Please just…just heal.’_

The female came over to her, her eyes searching as the male picked up the tarp from the ground, groaning at the slashes she had left in it.

“What happened?” she asked in a quiet, soothing voice.

Aithusa could only manage a strangled gargling kind of noise.

A look of worry crossed the female’s face and she turned her attention to Merlin. Aithusa watched as she carefully checked his pulse and peeled back the bandaging to check his shoulder. Her examination finished, she looked to Aithusa again and cocked her head, confusion evident.

“He seems fine,” she said, “Better than he has been.”

Aithusa hummed louder and chirped once to show her appreciation. _‘He’s okay, he’s doing ok.’_

The female moved off and climbed up into the cart as the male wadded up the ruined tarp and walked over with it.

“Well this isn’t going to be of any more use to us,” he said.

The female took the tarp from him as he passed it up, then jumped down to stand at his side.

“Do you think we should put up one of our blankets to hide them from view?”

The female turned a questioning eyebrow onto Aithusa.

 _‘I don’t want to be contained. I don’t want Merlin to feel trapped,’_ thought Aithusa as she listened to his heartbeat and his still laboured breathing. She let out a low, short growl, not wanting to move off Merlin’s chest. The female blinked once before nodding her head.

“It doesn’t seem like she wants that.”

“If she’s seen – ”

“We’re already past any settlements or towns. Even if we did meet anyone out here, they wouldn’t be very likely to go running off to Camelot shouting about what they say.”

“I don’t like this. We’re still within the boarders of Camelot. We _could_ run into a patrol of knights.”

“Hmm,” mused the female one, “Then _you_ can try convincing the dragon if your so worried.”

She patted the male’s shoulder as she walked past him, climbing up into the drivers seat. The male glanced over at her, seeming uncertain. Aithusa glared at him, but did not move. The female watched with a raised eyebrow from the front of the cart.

The male turned to look at her before sighing. “Point taken Arzela. Let’s just get going before our luck turns.”

They began moving again. Both humans throwing glances Aithusa’s way periodically as they went, just to check. After a few hours, Aithusa noticed that Merlin’s skin was beginning to feel warmer.

She chirped loudly to get the other humans attention. They didn’t stop this time, but the female one, Arzela the male had called her, carefully climbed back to where she Aithusa lay with Merlin.

“What is it?”

Aithusa cocked her head, trying to think of how she could communicate what she had noticed without words. After a moment she blew hot air at Arzela, then looked pointedly towards Merlin.

Arzela considered her before feeling his forehead. She sighed sadly as she grabbed for her medicine bag.

“Why did he have to develop a fever _now_ after two days of avoiding it?” she mumbled under her breath.

Arzela managed to sit Merlin up, with Aithusa still laying on him. She had refused to move this time. Arzela gave him the tonic to stop the fever from getting any worse before allowing him to lay down again.

“That should help him for now.”

Aithusa hummed at her as she shifted to make herself more comfortable laying on Merlin’s chest.

The sun was beginning it’s descent in the sky when the buzzing silence of the forest around them was interrupted by the sound of a cantering horse coming their way. Though little did she want to, Aithusa lifted her head and stared off in the direction of the sound. Arzela and the other human both sat up, scanning the trees around them for signs of movement.

As the sound of hooves came ever closer, Arzela jumped down from the cart, drawing her curved sword as she went with a ring of steel. Aithusa saw the form of a single horse emerge from the trees at the same time the male extricated a crossbow from their supplies. They all stayed tense and ready as the ridder came closer.

The man, having the best vantage point standing on the drivers seat, was best able to see the rider.

“They’re wearing the uniform of our healers,”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

The male one sat down and stored away the crossbow, but Arzela stayed where she was. Her shoulders lost some of their tension, Aithusa noticed, but she was till wary.

The rider wore a fitted tunic with cream-coloured trousers only moderately stained with a days hard travel. The rider slowed their pace to a walk as they approached, allowing them to glimpse the kind face of an older woman.

Once able to make out the rider, all tension bled out from Arzela’s body and she sheathed her sword.

The rider gazed around at them appraisingly as she pulled up. “Arzela, Tadek, your note said you found a young man in dire need of help?”

“Tela, it’s good to see you. You’re the very person we need.”

The female rider, Tela, climbed down from her horse taking a couple bags off it’s back as she met Arzela on the ground. “Where is this man then?”

“This way,” said Arzela as she led the newcomer around the cart to where Aithusa sat watching next to Merlin.

Tela stopped when she noticed Aithusa, glancing back to Arzela. “I have to say, I wasn’t sure if I should believe your note when you implied you had picked up a young dragon for a companion.”

As the woman talked to Arzela, Aithusa felt her reach out to her mind. _‘Hello young dragon. My name is Tela. I have come to help. Will you allow me to do that?’_

Aithusa looked at Merlin’s face for a few heartbeats before climbing off his chest and dipping her head at the newcomer.

_‘Please help him. I do not know how.’_

Aithusa hovered anxiously by Merlin’s side as Tela carefully climbed up and examined his condition.

“Have you been able to get any food or water into him? He looks very thin,”

“Yes. We’ve been giving him water periodically throughout the day and a full bowl of broth each time we stop for food ourselves,” said Tadek.

“How long has he been like this?”

“Since the night before last. The swelling at his shoulder’s gone down a lot,” said Arzela, “But it’s still quite bad. And he developed a fever several hours ago.”

Tela inclined her head as she carefully pulled Merlin’s tunic off his shoulder and unwound the bandages.

A pained whimper escaped Aithusa’s mouth when she saw again the marks there, now fully understanding just what they meant, how painful they really were for him.

Tela turned to her with sympathy shinning in her eyes. “Do not worry little one, he has held on this long already. And I can sense that he _has_ started to heal.”

Aithusa chirruped sadly as she mussed Merlin’s hair with her snout. _‘I wish he was healed already.’_ She didn’t broadcast the thought towards the healer though.

Aithusa watched as Tela pulled various herbs and a small vial from her bags. With the help of the others, she propped Merlin’s head up slightly and opened his mouth to put a few drops of the liquid on his tongue.

Merlin shifted a little and Aithusa leaned down to nuzzle his head again.

_‘I need you not to touch him for a moment.’_

Aithusa stared at Tela and hummed mournfully as she took a single measured step back. _‘I won’t leave him.’_

Tela smiled encouragingly at her.

_‘You do not have to.’_

Tela focussed in on Merlin again, laying one hand softly on his injured shoulder causing him to shift uncomfortably. She pressed her handful of herbs against the bare skin of his chest and closed her eyes, intoning a spell quietly.

Aithusa felt the surge of magic and watched apprehensively as Merlin’s whole body jerked, his fingers scrabbling at the wood of the cart he lay on. He shifted around with soft groans of pain as Tela continued to whisper spells to the wind. The herbs she held against his chest smoldered before turning entirely to smoke and sinking through his skin without a trace. Merlin jerked and whimpered, the other humans holding him as he struggled. It lasted for several heartbeats before he lay still once again.

Aithusa noticed that the red lines on Merlin’s shoulder were not quite so brightly coloured anymore. The skin looked less aggravated, though the swelling remained unaffected.

Tela opened her eyes and then tended to Merlin’s more mundane fever, which had begun to climb again.

“Can you not use magic to ease his fever?” asked Tadek.

Tela shook her head. “No. Any more traces of magic in his system would only complicate his recovery, confuse his energy with traces of someone else’s.”

The other two humans seemed to understand.

Aithusa chirped loudly to get Tela’s attention.

“Yes, you can touch him again,” came the soft reply.

Aithusa approached and laid down next to Merlin as the healer packed her things and stood. “We must be going. He will need the help of certain items we have in the Houses of Healing at Vartee if he is to fully recover.”

“Could you not use my stone?” asked Arzela.

“No, it has no doubt helped him thus far, but the precise way your stone eases the soul is not what he needs right now.”

Arzela took the spare horse as Tadek climbed back into the drivers seat of the cart. Tela found a place to settle where she could keep an eye on Merlin while they traveled.

They reached the hidden entrance to the mountain city of Vartee just as the sun was sinking towards the horizion, painting the sky a lush, rosy pink.

Miles away, a ragging storm that had lasted for near two full days suddenly petered out and stopped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: We have reached Vartee! And the next time we see Merlin, he’ll be waking up, so yay!  
> What did you guys think of Aithusa’s POV in this chapter? Did you guys notice any differences from how it’s been presented before? If you have any comments, please let me know.  
> Thanks to those of you who have been leaving periodic reviews. It’s really encouraging to know that I have repeat readers. I literally had no idea how long this story was going to be (still don’t know that, in fact), and I usually lose steam after a few large scenes in a story then wander away without finishing anything. The fact that I know some of you guys are sticking with me helped me get over that point where I lose motivation and kept me wanting to see this story through to the end.  
> Thank you to everyone who has read, reviewed, followed or favourited!  
> May the water warm you.


	23. Left in the Wake

When the morning came and still the storm hemming them in refused to retreat, Arthur finally threw caution to the winds. Unfortunately, the winds were only too happy to throw it right back.

“Arthur! What do you think your doing?!” yelled Elyan when Arthur cursed aloud and stood up from his rock.

He went to grab the reins of his horse and force his way through the rain. “I am _not_ going to sit here idly while Merlin’s out there having gods only know what done to him by those people!”

Privately, he wondered if he really believed that story anymore. Something strange had happened last night, and he thought that it might actually have been to help Merlin, somehow.

 _‘Do I actually think whoever took him has hurt him? For that matter, do I still believe he’s been taken?’_ questioned Arthur to himself.

All he knew for sure was he would be damned if he was going to sit there for one more minute, creepy magic grass or no.

“While I appreciated the sentiment your showing for Merlin Princess, the rest of us might have an easier time getting through this particular storm without you.” Gwaine stood up from his perch and cracked his back before walking out from under the overhang into the rain.

The second he stepped out of cover Arthur saw the winds pick up angrily and try to force him back, spraying water in his face. When Gwaine refused to retreat and pressed forward, a bright flash of lightning slammed into the ground just feet in front of him, the thunder crashing down on them barely a second latter.

Startled, Gwaine retreated back under the cover of the overhang.

“You were saying Gwaine?”

Gwaine threw him an annoyed look.

Arthur was actually somewhat pleased by that. It meant the storm was not _only_ stopping him. _‘Even if it’s more intent on making me stay put than any of the others.’_

Arthur had been able to think last night. He remembered what Gaius has said about it being possible Merlin could have been affected somehow by his rejection. If the storm was only stopping him, it could be Merlin trying to protect himself from an angry king.

_‘Gaius seemed to think that Merlin growing ill would be even worse than if some angry sorcerer had kidnapped him.’_

Arthur didn’t know why that would be the case. If Merlin was somehow hurt, he was certain Gaius would know how to help him. If he was kidnapped, he could be in far worse trouble.

_‘Unless there’s only one way him being hurt could go. Unless, he’s certain to die from that sickness or whatever it is, while there’s always the chance of rescue with abductors.’_

That thought didn’t do anything to calm Arthur.

Though the other knights were not quite as frantic as he was – Gwaine being the exception – they all became increasingly perturbed as the day wore on and the storm continued to churn around them.

Gwaine seemed to be on his last tether as evening began to make itself known. Arthur saw him walk to the edge of the overhang and glare up at the clouds, much like Arthur had been throughout the day. Clenching his hands into white-knuckled fists, Gwaine yelled at the sky. “Why are you keeping us here? What is it you want!?”

“There’s no one out there Gwaine,” said Leon.

“Like hell there isn’t,” snapped Gwaine. “Someone has to be watching us. Every time any of us so much as moves to leave, the storm picks up!”

“And just what do you think your going to be able to do with a sorcerer who’s powerful enough to do this?” asked Arthur.

Gwaine glared daggers at him as he stood there seething. “The same thing _you’d_ do if you got your hands on them.”

Arthur couldn’t say anything to that. Neither it seemed could any of the others.

They were forced to sit and stew in their thoughts for the remainder of the day. It was only when it began to darken again that the wind backed off. The rain gradually petered out, then stopped completely. They were moving long before that happened.

Arthur felt a rising sense of hope followed by a grim determination settling in his heart. He _would_ find Merlin. _‘And so help any fool who’s hurt him.’_

Though the storm had stopped, the sky remained overcast. There would be no moon by which they could guide themselves through the night. Arthur pressed forward relentlessly regardless of the gathering gloom. Night had almost settled fully when Leon ventured to break the silence that cloaked them.

“It’ll be true dark soon. We should stop while we can and set up camp. It’ll be no use looking for tracks in the dark.”

“Any tracks that were here will have been washed away by the rain anyways,” said Arthur, eyes still forward.

Percival’s deep voice sounded from his left side. “Here, yes. But perhaps not all tracks.” Arthur blew out an angry, defeated breath. They couldn’t risk missing clues in the dark, little though he wanted to admit it.

_‘I will find him. I have to find him.’_

They stopped and made camp in a small clearing just off the road.

* * *

Kilgharrah groaned as he felt himself wake up from a deep, if unnatural sleep. _‘How long have I been asleep for?’_ he wondered absently.

His eyes snapped open while he spread his senses out around him, searching for the strange magic from before. He could find no trace, not even the faintest hint of it around him.

All he could feel was the quiet heartbeat of the energy flowing through the earth and forest. _‘The flow feels slightly stronger now than it has in a long time,’_ thought the old dragon.

He raised himself laboriously to his feet, still trying to feel out if there was any presence. Finding nothing, he took to the air while the sun painted the western sky a brilliant, soft pink darkening to purple, then the indigo of night.

Kilgharrah could see the storm the entity had created begin to disperse slowly. It still faded too fast to be natural. He could sense the faintest wisp of magic from the thinning clouds. Before too long, even that wisp was gone.

Satisfied that nothing would trouble him any further, he turned his attention to trying to find Merlin and Aithusa. To his great relief, he found he could once again sense the both of them.

Through their connection, he knew Merlin was still lost to the waking world, but his pain had lessoned considerably.

After several long moments of searching, he located the still moving dragon and lord. They had travelled to the White Mountains, deep into the range of fierce peaks. He flew in that direction, trying all the while to ascertain the route the pair had taken through the peaks.

It was when he was a ten minute flight away that he realised they were actually underground and heading for the very centre of the mountain’s range.

 _‘Of course,’_ thought Kilgharrah as he came upon the first frosted peak. _‘I should have realised it was Varteesians helping Merlin. Few other peoples could have known how to treat the warlock besides them.’_

The sun had long since disappeared below the horizon as Kilgharrah came upon the hidden bowl-shaped valley from which the Varteesians hailed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: This was the last set of scenes I had to get through before Merlin wakes up. I’m not sure what’ll happen with Kilgharrah, if I’ll have him land right in the middle of the city and stay as close to Merlin as possible, or if he’ll stay hidden in the mountains. Aithusa’s certainly not going anywhere. And I have a nice slap in the face of truth waiting for Arthur when he finally figures out where Merlin went.  
> Let me know what you guys think!  
> May the water warm you. (I promise that goodbye/blessing will make sense soon :).


	24. "What do you Mean?"

Merlin woke to the sound of voices around him. Though he could hear words being spoken, their meaning evaded him. He wanted to open his eyes to see who was speaking. Then maybe he could figure out what they were saying. But he found he couldn’t.

His whole body felt sore, like it had been raked over very recently with hot coals. His shoulder though, that felt oddly numb, and there was a deep seated pain in his chest he couldn’t quite fathom out.

Gradually, his tried mind began to attach meaning to the words he was hearing, though it did little to make him actually understand.

“…several scars on his soul.”

“What do you mean _‘several’_? Has he lost that many family members?”

“As far as I could tell, only one of them was left by a loss like that. And it was a strange scar for how shallow the mark was. Like there was hardly any depth or time to that relationship.”

What was all this about scars on someone’s soul? Was it _his_ soul they were talking about? How would they know these things? What did it matter that he had lost people? Yes, those losses still sometimes hurt, but he could handle that.

“That still doesn’t explain how his soul could already have several scars. With the two connections we know about, he couldn’t have more than one other, scar or not.”

“Not necessarily,”

“Which means what exactly?”

There was a pause in the conversation. “I believe he is an Obical.”

Another long pause. “An Obical, are you sure?” The voice sounded almost awed.

“It is the only explanation that could explain how many connections his soul shows evidence of.”

“Do you think _that_ is why a powerful magical entity was helping him?”

“It is possible…but I could never say for certain…”

Merlin felt so exhausted, and sore, and he couldn’t understand what these people, whoever they were, were talking about. He was so tired. He fell into a deep sleep, marvelling absent mindedly at the warm safe feeling a weight at his side was giving him.

* * *

Kilgharrah found a perch on one of the higher mountain peaks overlooking the city of Vartee. He knew the peoples of the city would likely welcome him with open arms, but he preferred to remain unnoticed.

 _‘The Varteesians could no doubt be trusted with the secret of my continued existence, but it is best I remain in the shadows for now,’_ thought the old dragon.

He did however want confirmation that the young warlock was well, or at least recovering, so he reached out for Aithusa’s mind. He brushed briefly against Merlin’s as he searched. Though he could sense the warlock, he was locked away in unconsciousness and unable to answer.

_‘Aithusa,’_

_‘Kilgharrah!’_ came the little dragon’s enthusiastic reply. _‘Where are you? You said you would come to us…’_

Kilgharrah was frozen for a moment, unsure. That was the most coherent the younger dragon had ever been with her speech. It was too large a difference to be mere coincidence. _‘Young dragon, what has happened in my absence?’_

He could feel her confusion radiate out towards him.

 _‘So she is not wholly changed,’_ he thought privately.

_‘…I…I don’t know.’_

_‘Something happened…I saw… I saw Merlin’s memories Kilgharrah.’_

The old dragon was thrown for a loop with that answer. _‘You what?’_

_‘I saw Merlin’s memories. Experienced them as if they were my own.’_

Kilgharrah did not know what to say to that. Clearly the entity from before had done something, forged some connection between the young warlock and dragon. The only question remained if it was something only temporary, or if it was permanent.

 _‘At least that explains why the young dragon has so suddenly mastered the English language,’_ thought Kilgharrah to himself.

There was a long silence before Aithusa spoke again. _‘Kilgharrah, why did you attack Camelot?’_

He did not answer her immediately. Of course she had seen that, if she had seen Merlin’s memories. That had been an important event in the young warlock’s life, for more than one reason.

_‘…I was…angry…about the loss of my…of our kin…the other dragons…the dragon lords. I believed I was alone in the world, and I knew it to be Uther’s fault.’_

Aithusa was silent for a time. _‘If that’s true, why did you attack the city itself instead of going for Uther directly?’_

Why _had_ he attacked the city? He had even attacked the young Pendragon and endangered Merlin. Though if he was honest with himself, both young men had been endangered long before that incident. Merlin had been the one to set him free. He had been there every night, hoping to help the knights of Camelot stop him. The then prince had been there too, leading the charge against him.

Uther had destroyed everything he held most dear, and had then imprisoned him in that dreaded cave, using his own dragon lord against him. So he had reacted by trying to do the same to him.

_‘…I was…wrong…to have done that.’_

_‘In my anger, I became the very thing I so despised about Uther.’_

In those few days, he had _become_ Uther, reaping destruction upon the innocent to satiate his own grief and pain. Not unlike a certain witch he knew of, in fact. Kilgharrah actually shivered then.

_‘Merlin spared you.’_

_‘Yes,’_

_‘Because he could feel your pain.’_

_‘Yes.’_

_‘Have you ever felt his?’_

The question staggered Kilgharrah. He had always known the burden of destiny was heavy upon the warlock’s shoulders. But he could not honestly say he had ever truly considered what that would mean for Merlin the man, a human with thoughts, feelings and desires like any other.

Aithusa did not appear to expect an answer from him, and he felt her mind leave his own.

* * *

The next time Merlin woke, he did not feel so sore any more. The numbness at his shoulder had gone away, leaving behind a throbbing ache. His chest still hurt, but it was a dull pulse now, something he could easily ignore.

When he tried to open his eyes this time, he was pleased to find himself able. He blinked in the bright light around him, squeezing his eyes shut just moments after opening them. He squinted in the brightness, trying to focus on something, but the whole world was fuzzy around him.

He rolled his head and coughed at the dryness in his throat. _‘I could do with a glass of water,’_ thought Merlin as he tried to swallow.

Next to him, the warm comforting weight from before shifted quickly. A shape moved in from of his still foggy vision. The shape looked very wrong to him somehow, and he redoubled his efforts to try and focus. After a long agonizing moment, the figure above him came into focus. His heart skipped a beat when it did.

“…thus…?” he rasped out, unable to form the full name.

Aithusa squeaked at him happily before lunging forward and throwing her wings around him.

_‘Merlin! Your ok!’_

She continued to make strangled squeaking noises as she nuzzled him. He could hear a loud, happy hum in his ear.

“…usa,” he tried again to say, then gave up when it became clear he was not going to be able to form complete words until he was able to drink some water.

 _‘Aithusa, what are you doing here?’_ asked Merlin with his mind instead, _‘It’s dangerous. Someone will see you, you could get hurt…’_

_‘You were hurt. I wanted to help,’_

Merlin just stared at her hovering above him. He had been hurt? When had that happened? Better yet, _what_ had happened? He couldn’t remember getting injured.

As Merlin floundered for a response that made sense to him and would show the dragon just how dangerous it had been to come to him like this, the throbbing in his chest stabbed him sharply. That was when the memories came flooding back.

He made a chocking noise as his eyes filled with tears. _‘I never want to see you, EVER again!’_ rang an angry voice in his head. He was gasping for breath as his eyes continued to stream.

_‘Merlin please, don’t do this to yourself,’_

That only made him sob harder.

_‘Aithusa, you have to leave me. He won’t understand, he’ll hurt you, please,’_

He didn’t have the heart to order it of her right now, so consumed was he by his grief. His throbbing shoulder graduated from an ache to an intense pain. He clutched it in a hand and would have curled in on himself had Aithusa not been standing on his chest stopping him from moving.

He felt her shift and wrap a wing around his pained shoulder before laying down. A warmth radiated off the little dragon, seeping through his skin and calming the pain. He sucked in deep lungful’s of air as it faded back into a dull throb.

_‘I won’t leave you like this.’_

Merlin tried to stop himself from crying, but it was useless. With shaky arms he hugged the dragon closer to himself. She responded by humming soothingly in his ear.

Merlin eventually managed to get himself under control, but before he could return to trying to convince Aithusa to leave _right now_ , a door opened.

Merlin instinctively shot up, dislodging Aithusa as he did. He clutched her close to himself as she squawked in surprise.

“Please don’t hurt her, she won’t hurt anyone, I swear – ” the rest of his raspy, pleading rant died on his lips as he looked at the complete stranger standing in the doorway. It was a matronly old woman, not so old as Gaius, but certainly into her winter years.

He had expected a red clad knight with a hard, blank expression, maybe ill-disguised hatred and disgust. He wouldn’t have been wholly surprised if it had been a furious king, ranting about his betrayal.

He had not expected a motherly looking woman to walk slowly into the room with hands raised placatingly to him.

For the first time, Merlin took in the room around him, the bed he lay on, the clothes he was wearing. The room’s floor and walls were all white stone, so highly polished they shone in the light coming from a large window through which he could see a beautiful garden. The bed was larger than any he had ever slept in before, all the furniture artfully carved and made for comfort. Brightly coloured tapestries hung from a few places along the walls. He himself was wearing a fine white tunic and trousers much too soft to be anything he owned.

In short, he was not in Camelot. Nowhere in the whole city looked like this.

Despite the anger of his king, the thought that he was no longer in the city made him feel distinctly sick.

 _‘It’s safe here,’_ came Aithusa’s voice in his mind. He just clutched her tighter.

“It’s all right young man,” said the stranger, “You have nothing to fear. You will not be harmed.”

Merlin tried to respond, to ask the questions bouncing around in his head, but his dry throat only made him cough badly.

The woman was at his side in the blink of an eye pressing a clay cup to his lips, one hand on his back easing his sore body as he coughed.

He was nervous about drinking the water offered him. He had no idea what else it might contain.

 _‘It’s safe Merlin. Your safe,’_ came Aithusa’s voice again. _‘Your safe with me,’_

He drank the water offered him.

After he had taken a few sips, the stranger placed the cup on the bedside table and took a couple steps back to give him space. He began to shake slightly as he tried to stay sitting up, but Aithusa had other ideas for him. She knocked into his left shoulder gently and used her momentum to push him down onto the pillows behind him before she settled on his chest again.

The woman took a measured step forward to say in his line of sight.

“Who are you?” he asked in a voice still raspy. “Where am I?”

“My name is Tela, and I am a healer who hails from a little known city called Vartee. That is where you are now.”

“How…how did I get here?”

“Two of our people were in your city to purchase supplies when they found you in an alley. You were very unwell, so they brought you here to be healed.”

“Why…didn’t they just…take me to Gaius?”

A look of sorrow flitted across the healers controlled expression and she sighed tiredly. “The court physician of Camelot?”

“They did not take you to him because you showed signs…of having magic.”

A cold fist of dread clutched his heart as he began to sweat and shake.

Aithusa kept him from being able to move. She leaned over so her face was above his. _‘You are safe,’_ said the baby dragon. _‘I won’t let them hurt you.’_

He twitched as he held tight to her before looking back to the woman standing next to him, regret written clearly across her face.

“What do you want from me?” rasped Merlin.

A defeated sigh escaped the woman’s lips and she took a moment to collect herself. When she next opened her eyes she gave him a soft, reassuring smile. “We ask nothing of you my dear. Aid is something which should be given freely. It losses value if ever it is bought and paid for. You are under no obligation to us for anything. And when you are recovered, you may leave here and go wherever it is you wish. No one will stop you.”

Merlin was still breathing hard, but he felt like he could trust this woman. _‘And Aithusa seems to trust these people,’_ thought Merlin.

A thought occurred to him then. _‘ “Healer,” not physician, healer.’_

“…you have magic…?” It was half question, half statement.

“Yes, I do. As do many here. We are beyond the boundaries of other kingdoms, and magic is not against our laws.”

Merlin continued to breath heavily.

The woman took a few careful steps closer to him and placed a comforting hand on his arm. “Are you in any pain?”

He locked eyes with the woman. Finally deciding he could in fact trust her, he closed his eyes and gave one tiny nod of his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Merlin’s awake! And Aithusa’s adorable and sweet.  
> It’s going to be very interesting to play some more with Aithusa’s understanding of the things Merlin’s gone through. What did you guys think of her conversation with Kilgharrah? I’ve always felt like somebody needed to put the oversized lizard in his place in the show for attacking Camelot like that, among other things. Merlin was just too nice to say it.  
> Send me your thoughts! I’m always happy to hear them.


	25. Touched with Magic

Merlin lay on his side as he dozed fitfully.

Tela had examined his throbbing shoulder before leaving to retrieve an ointment which she then gently rubbed into his skin. His shoulder felt numb again thanks to that, but at least it didn’t hurt him any more. She had also given him a potion to drink which made him drowsy while helping ease the tight pain in his chest. He had not told the healer about that ache, though she seemed to know about it anyways.

Aithusa was curled up snuggled against him. Several hours ago she had fallen asleep on her self-imposed watch of him.

Despite the drowsy feeling from the tonic, Merlin found he was wide awake. There was too much going on in his head.

The last thing he remembered clearly was Arthur’s furious face as he threw him out of the room. He had no idea what had happened after that. He could recall, vaguely, an intense pain that started at his shoulder before trying to spread to the rest of his body. He felt like he had become lost in that pain, and it had been Aithusa who pulled him out of it, but he could remember nothing clearly.

He also remembered a bleeding wound with a fraying thread, an empty hole, and a choice between them.

 _‘But I don’t know if that was real, or if it was some kind of fever hallucination,’_ thought Merlin as he lay in the almost seductively comfortable bed.

He could definitely remember hearing a conversation between Tela and someone else he did not know about souls, scars and something called an “Obical”, whatever that was. The details of that conversation were fuzzy, but he was sure it had been about him.

The ache in his chest had eased a lot. It was beginning to feel reminiscent of how he had felt after the instance that had ultimately forced Morgana away from them forever. It ached in the same way, feeling just as awful as it had then.

Merlin’s musings were interrupted as Aithusa woke and stretched. Yawning widely showing her razor sharp teeth, she focused in on him. _‘Did you manage to get any sleep?’_ asked the little dragon in his mind.

He didn’t want to answer. The baby dragon was already so worried about him. Thankfully he had something else he could say instead.

_‘Aithusa, did you ever heal a woman you found injured in the forest around Camelot?’_

The little dragon froze for a moment, blinking big, bright blue eyes at him like a child caught by their parent with their hand still searching through the cookie jar. She dropped her head with a faint whimper as she pawed the bed covers, looking anywhere but at him.

_‘…yes…’_

_‘You healed Morgana of her injury then?’_

Aithusa continued to paw the covers, refusing to look at him. _‘I didn’t know who she was,’_ said the little dragon. _‘She just looked so…sad and broken…’_

_‘She is both those things.’_

Aithusa risked looking at him, her head still hung in shame. _‘She’s hurt you,’_

_‘She’s hurt a lot of people in the past few years.’_

_‘But she took control of you,’_ said Aithusa as she dropped her eyes again. _‘She put that_ thing _in your neck,’_

Merlin knew then he was not the only one to have experienced memories that did not belong to him. He wished privately that he could have spared Aithusa knowledge of some of the things in his past. Although, he had no way of knowing if she had seen everything, or just some things.

_‘You couldn’t have know that at the time Aithusa. I don’t blame you for helping an injured person. I’m proud. You did that despite the warning I gave you when you hatched not to go near other humans.’_

Aithusa started humming as she inched closer to him, raising her eyes to his again.

 _‘I can’t say I’m happy you healed Morgana,’_ Aithusa’s head dropped a little further, so Merlin hurried on. _‘But neither can I say I’m angry about it. It would have been easier had you not done that, but I can’t fault you for it either.’_

Aithusa continued to pick at the bed sheets with a taloned paw.

_‘Aithusa, come here, please,’_

She looked at him before shuffling closer. He wrapped his arms around her, hugging her to him.

_‘Have you seen my memories, like I’ve seen yours?’_

_‘…yes…’_

_‘Then you know I’ve spared her life before myself,’_ said Merlin as he made her look him in the eye. _‘I’m not sure I would have done any different had I been in your place. It’s not your fault Aithusa, you couldn’t have known.’_

Aithusa nuzzled him again as she hummed.

Merlin knew she wasn’t happy about what her actions might mean for the future, but he felt sure she was at least content that he wasn’t angry with her. It was as he laid there hugging her to himself that Merlin managed to fall asleep.

* * *

Training finished for the day, Arzela headed to her spot out by the hot spring lake. The lake was her favourite thing about Vartee; the thing that made the city so special to her. It was a steaming mass of crystal clear water, fed by a boiling spring, filled with so much life and such bright colour. From almost any point around the lake, you could see all the way to the bottom.

The water was always warm, but in the shallows the cool mountain air meant it was not scalding. Contrary to any other body of water, the deeper you went, the warmer it got. The deepest portions of the lakebed, right by the vents allowing boiling water to bubble out, looked like a completely alien world, beautiful and strange.

It was only the steaming waters of the lake that kept the valley Vartee occupied warm enough to live in. Venture too far away from the water in any direction, and you risked getting stuck in snow as deep as you were tall. Nothing else Arzela had ever come across reflected so perfectly the delicate balance of the world.

She was still standing at the waters edge, lost in thought when a young ward from the House of Healing approached her.

“Keeper Arzela?”

Shaking herself, Arzela turned to the boy, “Yes?”

“Healer Tela sent me to tell you that the man from Camelot has woken.”

Arzela raised an eyebrow at the boy, “Already?” _‘That was fast. Tela said only this morning she didn’t expect the man to wake for at least a couple days.’_

“He woke about an hour ago actually,”

Arzela thanked the boy and sent him on his way, all the while trying to process what the man’s sudden rapid recovery meant.

 _‘I don’t believe I’ve ever known another person to present such an enigma. And I don’t even know the man’s name yet,’_ thought Arzela as she made her way slowly to the House of Healing.

Though she wanted to visit and speak to the man herself, she knew he would not likely be up to a long conversation. It was better to let him rest.

Rather than heading through the hospital towards the patient rooms, Arzela turned down the much smaller hall where a few of the healers kept offices filled with research for their own personal projects or interests. As expected, she found Tela buried neck deep in her books with her door wide open. She knocked on the door as she entered, startling Tela.

“Oh! Arzela, you got my message I presume?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Good, close the door and come have a seat my dear. You said you wanted to be kept updated on the man’s condition.”

 _‘Tela sounds just as bemused as I feel about this man right now,’_ thought Arzela as she closed the door and took her seat.

“So he’s already woken then?”

Tela shuffled books around on her desk absent mindedly for a moment before answering. “More than that, he’s _lucid_.”

Arzela just stared at the healer.

“I’m just as surprised as you my dear,”

“He was just barely clinging to life less than two days ago, and now he’s not only awake, he’s _lucid_?”

“It would seem so.”

“How is that even possible?”

“Based on his condition now, it would seem that the damaged connection is _not_ the most important one to him.”

“If that was the case, he wouldn’t have reacted like that in the first place.”

“Yes, which can only mean he developed a _new_ connection between the time of the break and now that replaced the damaged one as his most important relationship.”

“And this happened, while he was unconscious and dying?”

“It would seem so.”

There was a long pause.

“This has to be what the magical entity did with the roots in that cave the other night,” said Arzela.

“That is what I surmised as well.”

Arzela was staggered by these revelations. Magical entities of the world were extremely aloof. She had no idea what could draw one out and influence, even _instigate_ such drastic changes without prompting.

_‘There has to be more to the story. A huge part of the puzzle is missing from this picture.’_

“How would the entity have been able to affect his soul like that though? I thought such things were impossible.”

“It _is_ impossible. At least as far as the last several hundred years of research shows.”

To say all this was hard to absorb would have been a gross understatement. _‘Who_ is _this man? And what exactly is he to this world that he is so,_ extra _-ordinary?’_

“What does this mean for him though? Surely he has a right to know all this about himself.”

Tela’s excitement fell away to be replaced by a healers weary worry for a troubled patient.

“He does have a right to know, and if he asks I will not try to hide the truth from him. However, I don’t think he should be told everything all at once. It would simply be too much. He is more unique than any individual I have ever even heard of. Telling him in no uncertain terms exactly how unique he is could prove a heavier burden than he could cope with.”

Arzela did not press any further.

 _‘He already feels alone. This truth would only heighten that feeling.’_ If Arzela’s brush with the man’s pain had told her anything, it was that.

* * *

When Merlin next woke, the warm weight of Aithusa’s presence was gone. The second he realized what that meant, he shot up in his bed looking around frantically. To his immense relief, he found her sitting a little away from the bed eating cutlets of meat from a small bowl.

When she saw him move, she swallowed her last mouthful and flew over to him _‘Merlin? Are you okay?’_ asked the little dragon in his mind.

“I’m fine…I just…it’s nothing,” said Merlin.

He spoke aloud because he didn’t want her to sense the panic he had felt thinking she wasn’t there. He had worried in those few seconds that perhaps these people were not as open and helpful as they seemed. He feared they had hurt her before taking her away from him.

Aithusa cocked her head at him while she hummed loudly.

 _‘I’m not fooling her,’_ thought Merlin. _‘She knows I panicked and was worried about her.’_

She nuzzled his hand as he reached forward to pat her.

_‘Someone came. They left food for you.’_

She pointed with a wingtip to the bedside table. A plate was laid out with fresh baked bread, cheese, and a small bowl of fruit.

Merlin settled himself more firmly in the bed as he brought the plate onto his lap. Aithusa watched him for a moment before returning to her own meal.

The food was good. The berries were small but bursting with intense flavour. The bread had been baked with an interesting spice mixed in, giving it added flavour.

As he ate, Merlin gradually became aware that he could feel his shoulder again. The numbing had worn off, and the pain was gone. His chest still felt a little sore, but he knew that if this was anything like the last time, the deep ache was not likely to go away quickly.

When he finished his meal, Merlin scanned the room he was in. He noticed that the clothes he remembered wearing last were across the room folded into a neat pile, freshly laundered. _‘And looking cleaner than they have been in a while if I’m honest with myself.’_

Next to his old clothes was another neat pile with a small note laid on top. He guessed that the second pile was an offering, but the presence of his old clothes meant he was not required to take it. He was allowed to refuse, if he wanted to.

Merlin moved out of the bed and stood carefully to his feet. When he did, his legs began to wobble and his head pounded at him. Before he could do anything else, he collapsed back onto the bed.

Aithusa was instantly at his side doing her best to support him while he clutched his head waiting for the world to stop spinning.

 _‘No more standing for you,’_ came Aithusa’s chastising voice in his head. _‘You are no longer allowed.’_

Merlin laughed before pulling the little dragon into an embrace. Despite her tone, she seemed amused while she hummed in his ear. “I guess I have to stay in bed for now, weather I like it or not.”

_‘Uh huh.’_

He laughed again and let Aithusa go. She settled down next to him and fixed him with a hard stare when he remained sitting at the side of the bed.

 _‘Fine,’_ thought Merlin, fighting a grin as he tried to look annoyed. He ruined it when his eyes sparkled with mirth though. _‘I’ll sit back if your that worried.’_

 _‘Of course you will,’_ was the dragon’s cheeky reply.

The moment of levity was interrupted by a knock on the door. Aithusa turned to it with a question in her eyes. Merlin frowned as he looked between her and the door.

 _‘What is it?’_ asked Merlin with his mind.

_‘None of the healers have knocked. This is someone new.’_

She didn’t seem bothered by that, so Merlin called out when a soft knock sounded again. “Yes?”

The door opened to reveal a tall, slim woman with well-defined, wiry muscle. She had bright searching eyes that seemed to know more than they should. Looking around, she stepped into the room and closed the door behind her.

“So you _are_ awake. It’s good to see your recovering well.”

Aithusa relaxed as she recognized the woman and settled down next to him with her head in his lap. Merlin felt like he was missing something. “I’m sorry, but have we met?”

“Not officially,” said the woman as she pulled up a chair and sat at the foot of his bed. “That’s what I came here to rectify. My name is Arzela. I’m afraid I never did catch yours.”

“I’m…Merlin.”

“Merlin, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

There was a pause of several heartbeats. “I still don’t really know who you are,”

“I’m one of the people who found you when you were ill and brought you here. A friend and I were originally in Camelot to purchase supplies.”

Merlin gazed into the woman’s eyes. “You found me when I was ill in Camelot?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Can you…do you know _why_ I was ill? I can’t remember much.”

Arzela nodded in understanding before she answered. “Due to the nature of your illness, the answer to that question is a bit of a long story.”

“Please,”

She laced her fingers together and sat forward in her chair. “I have to start with an explanation that may not seem of any real importance, but you will need if you are to understand what happened to you.”

“I would hope you already know that there are many mysterious natural forces in this world. Perhaps the most unpredictable, is magic.”

“Magic is a force woven deeply into the fabric of this world,”

“I know,”

Arzela inclined her head as she continued. “What you may not know is that magic is only one piece of a larger puzzle touching all living things at the deepest level. Magic is a type of energy which flows through the earth and everything living upon it.”

“Magic, energy, and the souls of living creatures all tap into that flow from time to time. Those three-way interactions are the source of the most ancient, most pure form of magic possible.”

“What does that magic do?”

“You must allow me to change directions here a little,” said Arzela. “Love, loyalty, friendship, and trust are all different words for the same type of connection formed between two people. When those connections are particularly strong, they can become touched by the natural flow of energy through the world; become touched by magic.”

“A connection between two souls reinforced with magic is a beautiful thing. It happens quite frequently, though not always equally for everyone. When a connection like that is broken, it has consequences. Sometimes even deadly ones.”

Merlin felt like he was hearing this explanation from the bottom of a deep pool. Aithusa chirped at him to bring him back to himself.

Arzela watched him with sad eyes. “If this is too much for you to cope with right now, I can stop and let you rest.”

“No,” said Merlin quickly, clutching the blankets in white knuckled fists. “I need to know. I need to understand what happened to me.”

Arzela scrutinized him for several long moments. Merlin refused to look away. “Please,”

She nodded once before continuing. “When my friend and I found you, you were lying curled in an unresponsive ball in the middle of a dark alley. Your right shoulder was encased in a latticework of swollen red lines, marking you as someone who had had one of those deep connections, badly damaged now if not completely shattered.”

“What does it…what does it mean if the connection shattered?” Merlin couldn’t expend the effort needed to lift his eyes from his hands as the silence stretched on.

“There are a lot of contingencies that would need to be taken into account to answer that, and you may be better placed to do so. I can tell you that your connection has not broken completely. It has not left a scar in it’s wake as of yet, but a bleeding wound.”

“What would it mean if it had scarred?”

“An irreparable fallout between you and the person you were connected to. The only other way for a break to leave a scar on the soul is one of the people involved dying.”

Merlin tried to take in deep, steadying breaths. _‘ “Irreparable fallout,”…that or death. So does that mean Arthur might still be able to accept me? Or does it just mean I still care about him, despite everything?’_

“Even when these types of connections shatter badly enough to leave a scar, it does not usually stop either party from caring about the other. But that is often more a curse than a blessing. We never feel as wronged by people we don’t care for.”

Merlin was aware of the throbbing feeling in his chest. The last time he had felt it, he had poisoned Morgana. Now, she hated him more than anyone.

He wasn’t aware of starting to cry until he was gasping for breath through his tears. All he knew was the comforting hand on his uninjured shoulder, and a warm dragon wrapping herself around him. He clung to Aithusa as he began rocking while he cried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Damn, long chapter with a lot of important conversations happening.  
> I know, I said Merlin was not going to be hurt any more. He’s physically recovering, but he still has yet to truly work through what happened between him and Arthur. He’s not going to be able to snap back from that very quickly.  
> Send me your thoughts, comments always welcome!


	26. To Each a Question

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Hey guys, sorry this one’s so much latter than usual in coming. I kind of ran out of road for a while and then had to grope around in the dark looking for the path again. I guess it’s my own fault for trying to write this thing without any form of preplanning at all.  
> Anyways, we’re back in business now! Hope you enjoy, and let me know what you guys think.

Merlin felt like an idiot, balling his eyes out in front of this complete stranger, using a dragon for a tissue. A hard, scaly, baby dragon. _‘She doesn’t seem to mind too much though,’_ thought Merlin as he continued to cry. Aithusa hummed soothingly in his ear trying to calm him.

He wasn’t entirely sure why he was crying so hard. He just knew that the deep ache in his chest hurt, and he wanted it to stop.

 _‘Merlin, it’s okay. Please calm down,’_ pleaded Aithusa in his head.

He clutched her a little tighter while making an effort to pull himself together. He didn’t want to worry her any more than she already was. It was as he managed to breath again that a cold fist clutched at his heart. For himself he could never have managed calm, but for anyone else, he knew he had to.

He straightened as he breathed, drying his eyes with one hand while keeping a tight hold on Aithsua with the other. When he was able, he looked up at the woman, Arzela, and asked the question he most needed an answer to. “Did this happen to him too?”

Arzela looked taken slightly aback by the sudden change. His voice had barely shaken when he spoke, despite his former tears.

She watched him for a moment, her eyes searching his. He did not look away. “I assume your asking me if the person your connected to was affected in the same way as you,” said Arzela. “And the answer is no. Reactions as extreme as yours are always one-sided. He may have felt _something_ , but it would be nowhere near as bad as it was for you.”

Merlin took deep, calming breaths. He clutched his free hand on the blankets the stop it trembling.

“I’m sorry. I should have chosen my words more carefully and broken this to you slowly. I did not intend to upset you so.”

“It’s not your fault,”

The woman had removed her hand from his shoulder as he regained control of himself. The fact remained that she had been trying more than most would to offer him what comfort she could. _‘And do I really deserve that from anyone? Why is she so willing to hand out that comfort?’_

“Are you sure your alright? I can bring Tela in here if you need it.”

“No, I’m…I’ll be fine,” said Merlin. Aithusa chirped at him, cocking her head. _‘I’ll be fine,’_ She chirped at him again.

“Is there anything you need?” asked Arzela. Merlin just shook his head.

“Very well, I’ll leave you to rest. I’m sure Tela will be in sometime this evening to see how your doing. Be sure to take it easy.” Arzela left, closing the door softly behind her.

 _‘Merlin?’_ prodded Aithusa.

“I’m fine. I’ll be fine.”

* * *

Arthur had them moving almost before the sun was up the next day. In the rising dawn, he made an effort to reel in his emotions.

 _‘Whatever happened to Merlin might be my fault, but I’m still the king and I can’t let my emotions cloud my judgement,’_ thought Arthur as they continued down the road. _‘I have to keep a cool head in case the people who took him really are dangerous.’_

All the knights seemed to be taking it in turns to watch him, the road, and the surrounding forest. He knew he had shown more emotion in the past few days than they were used to seeing from him. His outbursts had been tantamount to desperation, he knew. He had inadvertently made them all more nervous.

 _‘Perhaps they’re just wondering what really happened to me when I passed out.’_ Arthur worried over that strange night as the thought of it crossed his mind. He had not felt anything since it happened, and he wondered why that was. _‘I wonder too what that storm might have had to do with it.’_ He gazed inward and prodded himself. He could still feel the sting of having been lied to by Merlin for so long. Could still feel the worry and guilt of having reacted the way he had. He still wondered what had really happened to cause Merlin to disappear.

Even as he brooded, Arthur’s eyes stayed glued to the ground and he scanned for any signs of the passage of a heavily laden cart. In his preoccupation with the ground, Arthur did not notice Gwaine ride up next to him until the man spoke.

“So princess, what really happened the other night with the grass?”

Arthur jumped when he heard the man speak and glanced at him briefly before returning his attention to the ground. “Nothing happened Gwaine.”

“ _Something_ happened.”

“And how exactly would you know?” shot back Arthur.

Was everyone going to know more about magic than he had given them credit for now? _‘I wouldn’t actually be as surprised in Gwaine’s case. I heard tell of how he fought Morgana’s men with nothing but a wooden dagger, and won.’_ Magic would certainly be helpful in such a situation.

“The grass you were sitting on suddenly came alive and started growing towards you. Then you yelped, passed out, and the grass wilted and turned to dust before being blown away by the wind, leaving behind no sign anything had even happened. If that wasn’t magic, I don’t know what is.”

Arthur glanced at Gwaine again. He was alternating between sweeping his eyes around the forest surrounding them and starring pointedly at him. “Just drop if Gwaine. Nothing happened.”

The rouge knight was quiet for a time. “What made you so certain Merlin had been taken if nobody saw what happened?”

Arthur gripped his reigns so tightly the leather creaked in his hands. “He hadn’t gone home and Gaius was worried.”

“The same could be said of the other times Merlin’s disappeared.”

Arthur said nothing.

“Something happened between the two of you that made you certain he would go running back to Gaius.”

It wasn’t a question. Arthur’s hands were clenched tightly to hide their trembling. Thankfully, it was the exact moment Gwaine was about to open his mouth and question him further when Percival spoke.

“Arthur,”

Seizing the distraction, Arthur turned to the large knight. “You found something?”

For an answer he pointed into the trees off to the side of the road. While the dirt road had been wiped clean of all tracks in the storm, the forest hadn’t. Arthur dismounted and approached the open spot in the underbrush Percival had indicated. The ferns there had been tramped down in a wide swath leading into the woods. The flattened leaves were mostly disguised because of the beating the rains had given the entire area, but rain could not wash away everything. The tracks of a horse were suggested by the bruised, and in some cases, broken fern leaves. Two lines of straight tracks, one on either side of the hoofprints could be seen.

“They left the road here and entered the forest,” said Arthur as he mounted his horse again. He glared into the gloom of the trees.

“Are you sure this is their tracks? It could’ve been anybody traveling the road,” said Elyan.

“If it wasn’t them, why would they leave the road here?” asked Leon. “There’s a town not too much farther down the road. If they wanted shelter for the night, they would’ve just traveled there.”

“We follow this trail.” _‘And please let it be the right one.’_

They moved into the trees with renewed vigour. And if Arthur ended up next to Leon with Gwaine at the back of their party, it was all just coincidence.

* * *

Merlin became restless very quickly. For the past 8 years he had seemed to forever be running around doing one chore or another, if not for Arthur than for Gaius. _‘And if not for either of them, then for destiny,’_ thought Merlin. The result was that he no longer knew what to do with himself when he had no work. He might have better coped with his boredom had he been allowed to move about the room.

 _‘Where do you think your going!?’_ demanded Aithusa the first time he attempted to shimmy over to the side of the bed to stand.

“I just need to stretch my legs and move around a little.”

 _‘Oh no you don’t!’_ growled Aithusa in his mind as she latched onto his shirt sleeve and trousers with teeth and claws, her tail wrapping around his leg and tugging him insistently back onto the bed. _‘You almost collapsed the last time you tried that.’_

“Come on Aithusa, I’m fine,” he said trying to sound comforting while also attempting to get his clothing out of her grip without tearing it. _‘Someone will just have to mend it after, and it’s not even mine,’_ thought Merlin to himself.

Aithusa tugged on him a little harder. _‘Don’t make me spell you to sleep,’_ said Aithusa in his mind.

He looked back at her, slightly surprised. “You wouldn’t.”

_‘I will if you refuse to stay in bed.’_

“I could order you to let me walk around a little,” pointed out Merlin, knowing he would never stoop that low just to be allowed to stand up.

Aithusa did not say anything more, nor did she release his clothing. She froze, wide-eyed, with a sad and worried look on her face. It was more than enough to convince Merlin to stay still in bed for her.

_‘I didn’t actually mean that Aithusa, please don’t be mad.’_

_‘I’m not, and I know,’_ came the immediate response. _‘So you’ll stay in bed?’_

_‘Yes. I just don’t know what to do with myself, since I have nothing to do anymore.’_

She hummed as she curled up on his lap. It was both a comfort and a means of ensuring he could not move. It was a while latter that Merlin questioned if Aithusa hadn’t known he would feel guilty and do as she wished if she played the – apparently very effective – sad-baby-dragon card.


	27. Revelations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Grr writers block. I had a bit of a time just trying to figure out where this was supposed to go, but then I finally found the right threads and started weaving myself something reasonably good.  
> Anyways, here’s my next chapter, so I hope you guys enjoy. Reviews or comments always welcome!

Kilgharrah still sat unmoving on his mountain perch overlooking the valley of Vartee.

He had considered Aithusa’s parting question from every angle, attempting to reconcile it with everything he knew of Merlin. He had sent the young warlock away from him knowing full well the cost of taking his advise would be a heavy one. He had forced Merlin into agreeing to set him free, holding the fate of Camelot – _‘And more importantly to the young warlock, Arthur’_ – in his claws. He had pressed the young man to confront the brutal truth of duty, tainting his innocence. In short, though some of it may have been done in the interests of Albion, none of it had ever been in the interests of Merlin.

 _‘It is no wonder I was not able to help him when his soul cried out,’_ thought Kilgharrah. _‘If it wasn’t for the fact that we are kin, dragon and lord, he would have no connection to me at all.’_

If by some chance there had been a connection formed in that first year before the Questing Beast, it was likely now a scar on the man’s soul. It usually took more time than that for a relationship to become touched with magic though. Usually.

Old as he was, as much as he knew, Kilgharrah had never been able to fully comprehend soul magic. He knew about it, understood it’s most basic guidelines, but that was exactly the point; they were guidelines, not rules. Soul magic was as intricate and varied as the individuals affected by it. By it’s very essence, it was unpredictable, so true understanding had always evaded him.

 _‘It is for precisely that quality in myself that I’ve failed Merlin so completely.’_ Well, no longer.

The sun was beading down on him from it’s height above the mountains. If he wanted to remain unnoticed by the city, he would have to wait for night before he could move. His dark gold scales and huge form would be too noticeable in the bright light.

* * *

Now that they had a distinct trail to follow, Gwaine felt justified in disregarding his surroundings completely – _‘Well, mostly,’_ – and glaring at the back of Princess’ head.

It had taken him a long time to suss out, but he was now certain Arthur and Merlin had had a major falling out. _‘And since Merlin is too damn forgiving for his own good, it means Arthur had to be the one angry about something Merlin did,’_ thought Gwaine. It would make no sense at all for Merlin to have been the one angry. _‘Arthur wouldn’t have been so quick on the uptake about Merlin disappearing if that was the case.’_

The question was, what could make Arthur so angry he would send Merlin running? Better yet, what had made Arthur change his mind and prompt him to seek the younger man out, only to find him gone? Gwaine knew of very little either could do that would _really_ bother the other.

_‘It’s always boring when those two go too long without some kind of minor spat.’_

Arthur-Merlin fights were always the best. Merlin would become the perfect servant and drive Arthur up the wall until he caved and admitted to his mistake. _‘Princess didn’t often outright apologize unless he did something particularly bad, but Merlin always took it all in stride anyway.’_

For the life of him, Gwaine could not figure out what Arthur could do that would genuinely affect Merlin. The only thing that came to mind was exile, but _that_ wouldn’t get thrown around willy-nilly. _‘Princess must have been furious with Merlin for something, then threatened exile. That would have really hurt him.’_

It only made the whole thing that much more convoluted that Arthur changed his tune so suddenly. The 180 was almost as confusing as the fight itself he imagined happening. What had Merlin done to make Arthur so angry? Why did Arthur change his mind so quickly without any prompting either way? And how did the attack on Arthur factor into it all?

_‘Because that has to be the source of all this. It happened too close together for it not to be.’_

Most of all, why was Arthur not talking?

_‘…do not judge too harshly…’_

Gaius had said that before he left, looking for all the world like someone had dropped a boulder on his head, which he was not required to hold. Gaius had known what was going on, and so had Gwen. They were both distraught. Didn’t want him to judge Merlin harshly for whatever was the cause of all this.

 _‘And why would they think_ I _would be a harsh judge on anyone?’_

It all made little sense.

* * *

After leaving Merlin, Arzela went back to Tela’s office and explained the conversation she had had with the man.

“I think you did well,” said Tela when she expressed how she felt she had overstepped the bounds of what was truly helpful to the poor man. “The first step to healing is understanding. What you did was give him the full unadulterated truth. It may have hit him hard at first, but I’m sure he’ll be appreciative of your honesty once he calms down.”

“I didn’t explain everything though.”

“No, but you explained enough for him to begin to understand. Any more would have been too much all at once.”

Arzela left Tela to her research, satisfied that at the very least Merlin was in good hands with the older healer.

 _‘It seems like fate really favours this man, and fate favours no man unless it serves the world to do so. I just wonder how he was meant to serve the world,’_ thought Arzela as she left the House of Healing and headed for the cities library building.

The library stood in the centre of the city, a towering pillar of polished and sparkling white granite. It was the tallest most beautifully crafted building in the city. The scrawling complex sported an atrium open to the heavens above allowing natural light to spill into the lowest levels. Due to the unique climate of the valley, rainclouds never reached high enough to pour their damaging loads into the libraries interior. Aisles branched off the atrium in every direction, large open spines filled with reading desks and following the points of the compass with endless books filling the space in between.

Arzela entered and headed for the north-west corner where she knew she would find Tadek. After wandering through the levels aimlessly, Arzela noticed a large pile of books on an out-of-the-way table hiding a person making frustrated noises to the rhythm of pages turning.

“There _has_ to be something here,” mumbled Tadek absently as she silently approached, pulling over a chair.

Tadek didn’t notice her until she dug a finger pointedly into his side. Arzela smiled impishly as Tadek yelped, jumping out of his skin and sending his book flying. Due to the battlements of books the man had built around himself, it didn’t go far.

“Arzela! Don’t sneek up on me like that!” yelled her friend as he retrieved the book he had been reading.

“I didn’t ‘sneak up’ on you. That you didn’t notice me was your own fault. I thought dragging this chair over would be enough of a hint, but clearly I was wrong.”

Tadek only grumbled as he rearranged several more of his books. “What are you doing here anyways? Don’t you have training?”

“It’s afternoon Tadek.”

Tadek blinked several times. “It is?”

“Yes,”

She laughed at her friend’s dumbfounded expression. “Have you been here all day?”

“I’ve been looking to see if I can find anything about whatever that magical entity was.”

“You and Tela both it would seem. Had and luck?”

“No,” he sighed, sending his books a glare. “There are a couple things it _might_ be, but every magical being it could have been would have needed to be summoned by someone. Neither of us have magic, and the man and dragon couldn’t have done it because they were both unconscious the entire time.”

Tadek smacked his head down onto his books with a groan.

“There’s more to this now than even you know my friend,” she said after a long pause.

“What else is new?” he asked, his voice muffled with his face mashed into the fold of an open book.

“The man’s awake.”

“ _What_!?”

Tadek’s head snapped up to gape at her as she threw warry hands up warningly. “Quiet down, or you’ll get us both in trouble!” she hissed, glancing around at the otherwise silent aisles of books.

“How is that possible?” hissed Tadek at a more normal volume.

“Tela said that his damaged connection was not his most important relationship.”

“That’s not possible. It couldn’t be anything _but_ his most important relationship with how he – ” Tadek froze hallway though his triad and gapped at her again. “You said ‘damaged connection’…‘DAMADGED connection’… _It’s not even broken!?_ ”

“Apparently not.”

“How is this guy not _dead_!?”

“The dragon.”

Tadek shook his head. “She might have bought him time, but he would have died anyway eventually.”

“Not necessarily…”

“Maybe, but then again maybe not.” Tadek stared at his many books.

“So he developed a new connection with the baby dragon, and that entity did the magic allowing it to happen. An unknown, unsummoned entity of magic affected his soul while he was unconscious.”

Arzela said nothing.

“I’m never going to figure out what happened am I?” asked Tadek morosely, slamming his head back onto the table.

“Not from your books I’m afraid.”

“Any more startling revelations for me?”

“He’s awake. And his name’s Merlin.”

“ _WHAT_!?”


	28. Eagle Trainer

A tiny part of Aithusa missed the open air. She couldn’t quite understand the human need to build big, dead houses where the heartbeat of the earth could not be felt. She understood the necessity of shelter as well as the next creature, but if she was to be closed in on all sides, she would rather it be by living stone rather than ones dead, cut and assembled.

That said, at the moment there was a much larger part of Aithusa that did not want to leave Merlin’s side for anything. And the room was not so bad. There was a great big window facing a garden teeming with life thrown open to let in the fresh air. If she had wanted to, she could fly out through it.

 _‘But I’d much rather stay with Merlin and make sure he’s okay,’_ thought Aithusa.

Merlin had settled down after she guilt tripped him into staying in bed. She knew he was still restless, just as she knew he wouldn’t complain for fear of scaring her.

 _‘I know his heart still hurts, even if it’s better than it was before,’_ thought Aithusa as she snuggled into Merlin’s lap.

She mulled over recent events as she lay there. She wasn’t sure why, but she had a much keener sense of what was happening to Merlin now.

_‘Kilgharrah was so surprised when I told him I saw Merlin’s memories. I wonder what actually happened to allow that?’_

She had heard the healer Tela and Arzela talking about something that happened with Merlin and her in a cave, but she couldn’t recall ever being in one. What she _could_ remember was the touch of powerful magic. The storm, she was certain it was that magic which had entranced her, made her forget. She remembered Merlin’s presence, and being tied to him somehow.

_‘But wasn’t I already tied to him? He is my dragon lord after all,’_

The only thing it could mean was that there was now a new connection between her and Merlin, one separate from their connection as kin. It was easier than ever to speak to him with her mind, but that also meant emotions and feelings flowed freely between them. Merlin seemed to be good at shielding her from his though.

_‘At least since he’s been awake.’_

If she didn’t already know the real reason Merlin had been unwell, their new connection would have allowed her to find out.

A couple hours latter when the sun was beginning it’s descent back towards the horizon, Tela came in to check on Merlin. Having consented to laying down to rest a while ago, Merlin sat up to meet the healer as she came in.

“Good afternoon, Merlin I believe it is?” Merlin inclined his head while mumbling a quiet greeting. “How are you feeling now? Is your shoulder still painful?”

“No, it doesn’t hurt any more. It feels fine.”

“Let’s have a look then and see.”

Tela walked over and undid the special-made clasps at the shoulder of Merlin’s tunic to reveal the bandaging there. She unwrapped his shoulder to reveal thick white lines of smooth flesh wherever it had been red and swollen. “This is good. You’ve healed well. The swelling is completely gone, though it has left scarring I don’t believe will fade any time soon.”

“Scarring?” asked Merlin as he turned to look at his shoulder.

Tela brought over a mirror to give him a better view. Merlin’s already pale skin showed thick white lines that criss-crossed around his shoulder, some even venturing a short ways up his neck. They were not that noticeable. With a quick glance you could miss them entirely.

Aithusa felt acceptance radiate from Merlin, knowing he could not change anything, but it was tainted with guilt, grief, and the same sadness that still made his chest feel tight, and Aithusa’s by extension.

Aithusa chirped happily and blew a small smoke ring into the air trying to cheer him up. _‘Your getting better!’_ she said, projecting her thoughts into Merlin’s mind. He smiled at her and pulled her close as Tela redid the clasps and stepped back.

“You see now? I’m fine.” He stopped to think for a moment. “Am I allowed to stand again?” The question seemed open for the room, not directed at anyone in particular.

Aithusa turned to stare at the healer who’s eyes were twinkling as she watched them.

“Since the swelling is gone, the worst is over for you,” said the healer. “Though you may still be weak for another day or so. I’d like to keep you here for you to rest tonight, but you will be free to go tomorrow.”

_‘In other words, your not allowed to get up until tomorrow.’_

Merlin groaned chuckling quietly as he hunched over, trying to hide the amused twinkle in his own eyes while looking put upon.

“It seems I’m only hearing half this conversation,” said Tela as she watched, smiling.

Aithusa chirped happily at everyone in the room.

“She hasn’t let me get up all day,” mumbled Merlin.

Tela only laughed at him.

The healer bustled around the room picking up the various bottles of medicine and remedies that had found their way in, but not back out.

As Aithusa watched, Merlin’s face lost the light-hearted smile it had achieved. It was replaced instead by a contemplative frown while he fiddled with the hem of his sleeve. “Tela?” he asked after a moment.

The healer turned from her task. “Yes my dear? Is there something you need?” After a moment of thought, she added in quieter voice, “How does your chest feel? Is it causing you real pain or just a faint ache?”

Merlin gazed at the woman with warry eyes. “How did you know about that? I didn’t say anything,”

Merlin threw a questioning glance her way. _‘Hey!_ I _didn’t say anything either,’_ she said, projecting her thoughts his way.

“It is the longest lasting symptom of what ails you,” said Tela gently. Merlin nodded his understanding.

“It just, aches a little. But I don’t need anything for it. I’ve felt this before, so I know it’ll go away.”

 _‘He left off the ‘eventually’ from that sentence, I notice,’_ thought Aithusa privately.

“I’m sure you have.”

She saw Merlin’s shoulders tense just a little at that comment. “How could you know for certain? How do you know my…connection hasn’t broken completely, that it’s not a scar on my soul now?”

Tela sighed as she placed the few bottles in her hands down on a table before turning back to them. “I understand what it is you’re truly asking me. You want to know how I could have information on the intimate trappings of something so intensely personal as your soul. The answer is that I went looking for that information so I may heal you.”

Merlin did not relax, but nodded and motioned for her to continue.

“Your reaction to your connection becoming damaged was extremely severe, and completely physiological where most would have suffered in their minds. That told me two things; one that you have an impressive inner strength, and two, that your damaged connection was threaded deep into the centre of your soul. Without knowing more about that bond, I would not have been able to help you. Soul magic is…intimate, intricate, and when done incorrectly or without the proper care can be dangerous. For those reasons, I could not outright heal you, lest I put something back together wrong and fundamentally change who you are as a person. I needed more information so I could give you the push you needed to begin heading in the right direction.”

“I used a spell on you that brought up an image of the bonds within your soul, like a pale reflection which lives and breaths along with you. It does not reflect all details, only the essence of your bonds. I had to sift through many connections before I found the one that ailed you, and in doing so I learned something of each bond I brushed against. I know you already have far, far too many scars on your soul, and a bond already that snapped for a reason other than death. But I do not know names, and nor will I ask or tell another any details I may know without your permission.”

The tension had bled out of Merlin’s shoulders throughout the explanation. Aithusa was only partially surprised when he reached out to her for comfort.

“Thank you for being honest with me,”

“You deserve the truth for something as personal as this.”

“So…it’s not broken…”

“No, it is not.”

“…Does…can you tell me what that means?”

“It means the relationship may still be salvageable, but the situation is tenuous.”

Merlin became very interested in the lines of Aithusa’s scales as he traced them with his fingers.

Because she was still young, her scales had not yet fully hardened, and she squirmed with a chirping hum as it tickled. Merlin smiled mischievously, then began to purposefully trace the scales on her underbelly where she was most sensitive. She squeaked at him, trying to wriggle out of his grasp while he laughed.

* * *

Gwaine was struggling to concentrate on tracking the sparse trail through the woods. The track they found earlier that day eventually split into two different trails after emerging into a clearing. One led off in the direction of the closest town, the other angling further north, but heading back in the general direction of the road. With no way of knowing which way Merlin had been taken, they split into two groups to follow the trails.

It was decided that if the north trail led back to the road, they would meet up in the town for the night, otherwise they were to meet back in the clearing where the trail split before nightfall.

Gwaine was annoyed because he _knew_ Arthur had purposefully sent him in a different direction. _‘And he deliberately stuck me with Percival because he hardly ever speaks,’_ groused Gwaine.

He was deliberately trying to avoid thinking of the one and only answer he had come up with that might explain everything. _‘And a lot of other things too, if we’re being honest here.’_ He wasn’t sure if he wanted to be right or wrong. And he didn’t want to decide anything before he knew for certain.

He contemplated Percival as they worked their way through the woods. If he knew or suspected anything, he wasn’t talking, and wasn’t likely to. _‘Which is exactly why Princess stuck me with him.’_

Gwaine was quite sure at this point the Varteesians had taken Merlin, but not because they wanted to do him harm. _‘If my hunch is right, they would’ve taken him away to try to help him, but there’s still a piece missing. No matter what, Merlin wouldn’t have run off like this leaving everyone to worry.’_ Something bigger had happened. He was brought again to the idea that someone else had attacked Merlin, and the Varteesians had rescued him.

Gwaine was almost surprised when they emerged back onto the road. He hadn’t been paying enough attention to see it coming. He and Percival checked around to make sure the cart didn’t cross back into the trees somewhere close by.

“We should head to town and see what the others have come up with,” said Percival.

Gwaine only grunted, too much going on his head for him to articulate himself any more than that.

They reached the town just as the sun began to dip back towards the horizon, and met the others as they were about to leave.

“So the north trail led back to the road then?” asked Elyan when they rode up.

“Yep, just a couple hours out of town,” answered Gwaine. “What did you guys find?”

“A woman matching the description of the Varteesian warrior rode into town late the other night,” stated Leon. “She did not stay for very long before some of the townspeople saw her head back the way she came. It seems she had been looking for someone specific, but it doesn’t seem as though she found them.”

_‘I wouldn’t be so sure about that._ ’ Gwaine’s brain was running ahead of the conversation. _‘Varteesians are too good at hiding. I wonder if I can figure out who the local oddball is. Somebody who practiced something like falconry would be a good place to start.’_ A random animal trainer like that was a pretty good indicator of a Varteesian.

“At least we know they’re still heading north, and whatever they were looking for here, they didn’t find.”

 _‘Sure Princess, whatever you say,’_ thought Gwaine. He decided to keep his mouth shut for once in his life. _‘Looks like I’m going to the tavern tonight.’_

He was more certain then ever that the Varteesians were not the bad guys here.

“It’s too late to do anything more today,” said Arthur. “We’ll stay in town for the night and then continue on to the mountains tomorrow.”

Gwaine’s rouge knight persona worked to his advantage that night. Nobody said anything about him wanting to drown his sorrow for their lost friend in ail while he could. In fact, they all joined him.

Gwaine watched Arthur out of the corner of his eye. _‘Princess isn’t drinking very much. He actually looks extremely guilty.’_ It only served to harden Gwaine’s growing suspicions.

Arthur was the first to turn in for the night, followed soon by Leon. Percival and Elyan left only about a half-hour latter.

Gwaine worked the tavern to garner what information he could when the last of his friends turned in. He eventually struck gold when he was told about an eagle trainer that lived in town. The odd profession was a dead giveaway of where the person actually hailed from. Gwaine didn’t even sway when he stood and made his way to the individuals house. Behind the inn, unnoticed by Gwaine, a shadow moved off into the woods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Well, Gwaine has found an answer, but he doesn’t want to think about it until he has confirmation. And somebody is sneaking off into the woods.  
> I kind of had this chapter half-written before I had fully figured out where it was going to go. I was considering scrapping the entirety of Aithusa’s perspective here and just starting with Gwaine, but I just couldn’t bring myself to get rid of the Aithusa cuteness with tickle-monster Merlin. I like where it’s all gone, even if it might be a little info-dumpy.  
> Anyways, thanks to everyone for reading and please leave comments! I will go so far as to say you can (maybe) expect a new chapter at least once every couple of weeks. I’ll try to at least be that proficient.  
> May the water warm you.


	29. Sneaking Around

Arthur wasn’t sure why he was sneaking out the back door of the inn, making a dash for the woods. All he knew was, for whatever reason, he felt drawn back to the clearing they had found earlier in the day.

The moon was shining brightly down on him, casting the world in it’s silver glow. Arthur kept his hand on the hilt of his sword as he moved stealthily through the woods. _‘At least I had the presence of mind to bring my sword along if this turns out to be some kind of trap,’_ he thought, all senses alert for danger. _‘Although if this is some sorcerer’s trap, there is probably not much good a sword will do me.’_

Merlin’s incessant need to follow him everywhere had to have started for a good reason, after all.

Arthur made it to the edge of the clearing and scanned the open space. Nothing moved anywhere, the dappled darkness of the surrounding trees absolute. A gentle breeze blew past, rustling the leaves in it’s wake. After several heartbeats, Arthur broke from the treeline and moved towards the centre of the clearing.

 _‘Well this was stupid,’_ he thought after a moment, waiting for something to happen. _‘Why did I come all the way out here in the middle of the night?’_ Just what he thought he could achieve, he had no idea.

As he was about to give up and head back to town, grumbling about this pointless expedition, a sound shook the night. A loud thud reverberated through the air, followed by another, then another. Arthur’s brain was thrown into overdrive as he drew his sword, brandishing it against the darkness. The thudding sound grew ever closer, until it felt as if it was coming from somewhere above him. That was when it all clicked into place, and Arthur cast his eyes towards the sky before stumbling back several feet in shock.

Blocking out the stars was a massive, _familiar_ form. It dropped and landed gracefully with a loud crash that shook the ground.

It took only seconds for Arthur to recognize the beast as the one that had attacked Camelot all those years ago. Though he knew it was useless, that his sword would be as useful in killing the dragon as a pin would be in murdering a horse, Arthur let lose a desperate war cry and charged.

He did not get more than two steps before the beast growled, rearing on it’s hind legs and beating it’s massive wings at him. The rush of air knocked him flat. He was able to keep hold of his sword though, barely.

“I did not call you here for you to kill me, King Arthur Pendragon,” said a deep voice as the dragon crashed back to all fours.

Arthur froze halfway through picking himself back up and gaped at the creature watching him with shinning gold eyes. _Intelligent_ eyes. “It speaks, the dragon speaks,” he breathed.

He was in shock and wanted nothing more than to sit on the ground with his head in his hands until the world decided to make sense again. Before him was a dragon, one he had supposedly killed, and it could speak! Despite his shock, Arthur’s pride drew him to stand facing the creature. The massive, dangerous, talking dragon.

It snorted in derision at his comment. “I am not an _‘it’_ , I am a _‘he’_ ,” snapped the dragon.

 _‘Why did no one tell me dragons can talk, are intelligent?’_ he questioned as he stared. _‘I’m sure Gaius would have known, yet he said nothing when it…he…attacked Camelot. We could have tried to reason with…him.’_

“I killed you.” Arthur’s mouth, it seemed, was not working on the same level his thoughts were.

The dragon snorted again. “I think it is obvious you did not, since I am still here.”

Arthur floundered for something to say, still reeling from his most recent discoveries. Eventually he settled on saying what he knew, what was familiar.

“You attacked my home, killed my people, my knights.” His voice was low and gravely. He still sometimes dreamed about dragon fire in the night. _‘Not that anyone knows about that.’_

“I sought vengeance for the deaths of my kin.”

Arthur was trying hard to stay calm – _‘If you can be calm when faced with a dragon that tried to destroy your home,’_ – but the beast did not sound the slightest bit bothered by it’s actions. Anger began to broil in his guts. But his recent experience held him in check. He would not make the same mistake again, even if he was furious.

“You slaughtered innocents, women and children,” he growled.

“As did Uther when he began his thrice damned purge of magic.”

“So it was just him you wanted? And you made all of Camelot suffer for it?”

“Uther made all of magic pay for the actions of a single individual, actions which he invited at first,” stated the dragon. It had a far away look in its eyes. “But I was wrong to have acted as I did. It took the forgotten wisdom of youth to make me see what I had done.”

Arthur wasn’t sure what that was supposed to mean. “So you regret it?” he asked.

“I have been made to, yes.”

“Is that why you stopped?”

“No,” rumbled the dragon, looking distant again. “I was forced to stop.”

_‘ “Forced”? Who could have forced a dragon to do anything?’_

But then Arthur remembered the only person left standing when he and a dozen knights had ridden out to face the dragon. _‘Merlin,’_

_‘…even he does not know how powerful he really is…’_

“He stopped you,” whispered Arthur, speaking more to himself than the dragon. It heard him anyway.

“Yes, he did.”

“You knew him,” said Arthur, watching the dragon. _‘He would have to know Merlin to know who I was talking about without even asking.’_

“I called him to me the moment he set foot in Camelot.”

Something cold was trickling down Arthur’s spine. _‘I’m sorry your having to do this…Why? This isn’t your fault…’_

“…He’s the one who set you free.” Arthur was wrestling with himself. He knew Merlin – _‘At least I thought I did,’_ – and he couldn’t see why the man would have set the beast lose on the unsuspecting city.

“I forced him to promise me he would. I gave him no choice.” said the dragon, watching him intently.

“There is always a choice.” He believed that, he had to. But he couldn’t fathom what could have made Merlin endanger so many.

“I forced him to chose between watching you die and Camelot fall, or setting me free. I would not give him the information he needed to protect you, unless he promised me. In the end, he swore on his mother’s life to free me if I helped him.”

Arthur’s hands were clenched at his sides. He was trying hard to stop the shaking. _‘So that was it. He had to risk releasing the dragon, or watch everyone he loved die.’_

“You used him,” growled Arthur. “You exploited how much he cares for us all, and then made him responsible for all those deaths.”

It stung, oh how it stung. That Merlin had been forced to make such a choice, an impossible choice. That he had been forced to go to this dragon for help, and the dragon had used his compassion against him. _‘Merlin was there, every night the dragon attacked. Right at the front line with me. It must have destroyed him, to see all that death, and to feel as if he had caused it.’_ He had seen how the whole situation affected Merlin, seen how much he wished it had never happened.

_‘But if he was the one to make the dragon leave, why hadn’t it worked sooner?’_

“Why hadn’t he stopped you sooner?”

“I am immune to his magic. He tried and failed many times to use it against me. It was not until he received his inheritance that he finally succeeded.”

_‘Wait, what?’_

Arthur stared at the dragon, a horrible feeling coiling in the pit of his stomach. “Inheritance?”

The dragon pierced him with it’s golden eyes before answering. “So even with knowing his secret, you are still only just beginning to see.”

“Perhaps I was not so alone in exploiting him for my own benefits.”

A steel knife slipped between Arthur’s ribs to pierce his heart.

“I am nothing like you,” ground out Arthur. “I care about him.”

The dragon regarded him silently. “And yet you rejected him for who he really is.”

The wind blew silently through the night.

“He is a true warlock, born with his gifts. Magic flows through his veins like blood. He cannot be separated from it, and has always been alone for it.”

Arthur was having trouble breathing. _‘…never return here…sorcerer…’_

“Perhaps his destiny and connection to you were not as immutable as the prophecies foretold.”

The dragon expanded it’s wings and took off, blasting Arthur with a gust of strong wind. Arthur stood watching the night sky long after the dark shape disappeared from view, breathing heavily.

_‘Perhaps his destiny and connection to you were not as immutable as the prophecies foretold.’_

Why did that sentence have his heart racing so much?

Arthur thought again of the feeling of having something torn from his chest two nights ago, without any idea what it might have been.

By the time Arthur stumbled back into the inn, he was drenched in sweat, shaking from he knew-not what.

_‘And yet I do know, don’t I? I just don’t want to admit it.’_

* * *

Gwaine made his way leisurely towards the home of the eagle trainer.

 _‘I have to be careful what I say,’_ he thought, _‘If this person really is a Varteesian, they won’t likely be very open with me.’_

He was determined to get some answer though. _‘I can at least ask if Merlin is hurt.’_ He didn’t really care where their people came from. He just wanted to know that is his friend was safe.

He banged on the door of the trainers house and waited for someone to answer. Gwaine still had on his chainmail, but he had left his red Camelot cape back at the inn. _‘I’m not here as a knight of Camelot, but as a friend after all.’_

The door eventually opened to reveal a man with a small and strange mark tattooed on his neck.

_‘Yes, I was right. This person came from Vartee even if they don’t live there any more.’_

“Can I help you, Sir Knight?” asked the man politely.

“I hope you can,” responded Gwaine. “But I’m not here as a knight, I’m here to help a friend.”

The man examined his face for several long moments, one eyebrow slightly raised. Eventually he moved aside and motioned Gwaine into his home, indicating a chair for him to sit. When both men were settled, the Varteesian spoke. “Who is your friend then, and how do you think I can help you?”

“His name’s Merlin, and he’s missing. I was wondering if you might know where he could be?”

The man seemed to consider his next words very carefully. “Why do you believe that I would know anything about this?”

Gwaine measured his words cautiously as he spoke. “I know you’re originally from Vartee,” A look of surprise flitted it’s way across the man’s face. “And I know that two other Varteesian’s were in town right before he disappeared. I know your people are peaceful and wouldn’t have taken my friend to hurt him, but I don’t know why he _was_ taken.”

There was a long pause.

“Please, I only want to know that he is safe,” pleaded Gwaine into the silence.

The man studied him for a long time. “A warrior of my people came here the night before last with an urgent message to send home. From what she told me, she had found a man in Camelot who was suffering from an ailment magical in nature and in urgent need of a healers care.”

_‘ “Magical ailment”?’_

“…So he was attacked,”

“That I do not know,” said the man. “But he was taken for his own good somewhere he could be healed.”

Gwaine sat in silence as he mulled everything over. _‘ “Magical ailment”, that would certainly explain the Varteesians from Camelot taking Merlin, but how did he get sick in the first place?’_

There was still a missing piece in the puzzle, and Gwaine didn’t know enough about magic to be able to figure out what it was. He was sure he had all the right stones for the arch in place, he was just missing the keystone.

“Where is he now then? How bad was he when you saw him?” asked Gwaine.

“The warrior came alone to send off her message. I did not actually see your friend. And to answer your first question, he is safely ensconced somewhere he can be best helped.”

_‘So basically, your telling me he’s in Vartee, and your not going to tell me where that is.’_

Gwaine felt a little annoyed, but he was hardly surprised by the response. _‘I’m probably lucky I got any response to that question at all, actually.’_ It didn’t make him grumble inwardly any less.

He thanked the man for his help and headed back to bed for the night. _‘At least now I know that nobody is hurting Merlin,’_ thought the rouge knight as he drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: So, Kilgharrah faced off with Arthur, and it seems like everybody walked away from that with quite a bit to think about. Let me know what you guys think of that scene, I’m curious to hear what you have to say.  
> Now Gwaine knows that Merlin wasn’t taken by any badies, and he’s not being hurt. We’ll see how well that one plays out when the truth comes out.  
> May the water warm you.


	30. Meaning of a Scarf

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Hello again everyone. I’m sorry this one came a little latter than I promised. I had a bit of an emotional upheaval recently and my brain would just not do writing. I think I’ve mostly moved past that now, so we should be good for the future. Anyways, this chapters all in Merlin’s POV, so let me know what you guys think and enjoy!

When Merlin woke the next morning, it was to Aithusa trying – and failing – to glide around the room as quietly as possible.

“Aithusa, what are you doing?” he asked as he sat up in his bed, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

 _‘I just needed to move around some,’_ came her voice in his mind. _‘I’m sorry I woke you.’_

He waved off her worry. He could feel her restlessness through their bond. For some reason, the feelings were more acute than they had ever been before. _‘I’ve never felt so close to her before. Even when I could sense how much Kilgharrah hurt from the loss of all his kin, how angry he was while attacking Camelot, I didn’t feel this close to him.’_

He wasn’t sure exactly why he felt so much closer to the baby dragon then he remembered being when she hatched. In a strange way, he liked that he did. He could feel how much she cared for him. It was almost tangible.

 _‘How are you feeling?’_ she asked once she landed at the foot of his bed.

He gave her a bright smile. “I feel fine. Much better than yesterday.” She hummed happily at him.

She watched him closely when he moved to get out of bed. _‘Maybe you should wait for the healer first,’_ she cautioned.

“I’m _fine_ Aithusa.”

He carefully got to his feet. When he didn’t feel dizzy or lightheaded, he flashed Aithusa another smile. “See? It’s fine.”

She hummed disbelievingly at him, her eyes searching his. Merlin walked closer and gave her a reassuring pat.

“I’m ok now Aithusa, you don’t have to stay here and worry over me any more. I know how much you want to be out in the open air.”

She turned her bright, surprised eyes to him. _‘But I want to stay with you,’_

Merlin felt his heart swell as he pulled her close. She hummed contentedly while he hugged her. _‘I don’t know how all this happened, but I’m glad something good came out of it.’_ Merlin had not only found a place accepting of magic, he had somehow become infinitely closer to the little dragon.

“You don’t have to leave if you really don’t want to. But I know you really want to go flying. I won’t go far, and I’m sure you can find me when you come back.”

Aithusa looked at him a little lost. _‘Promise?’_

Merlin didn’t try to contain his bright smile. _‘I promise.’_

She nuzzled him in a parting gesture before turning and flying out the still open window. Merlin noticed immediately that the new distance did nothing to dull the connection he felt to her. His own spirits soared along with the little dragon as she danced through the air outside.

Merlin moved to the pile of his clothes he had noticed the day before. Sitting on top was his beloved red neck-scarf. Fingering the edge, he felt himself assaulted by different memories all vying for dominance. He had always worn his neckerchiefs because his mother had made them for him. Since he so rarely got to see her these days, he had only grown more attached to the threadbare pieces of fabric. But the knifes edge that kept assaulting his thoughts made him raise a hand to his throat. It was only a vague, indistinct memory, but was no less pointed for it.

The pressure around his neck as he was hauled to his feet and pinned against a wall. The voice that broke through everything, leaving only shattered pieces behind. _‘I never want to see you, EVER again,_ sorcerer _!’_

Merlin’s breath hitched and his fingers slipped off the fabric. He couldn’t have stopped the tears that came to his eyes, even if he had wanted to. He buried his face in his hands, trying to reel in his emotions.

It wasn’t long like that before he heard Aithusa’s voice in his mind again. _‘Merlin? Are you ok?’_

 _‘I’m fine,’_ he thought, trying to reassure her while hoping the worst of his emotions were not bleeding through. _‘It’s just hard,’_

 _‘I’m coming back,’_ was the immediate answer.

_‘No, wait. You help more by being where you are.’_

He felt a sudden, sharp heartache and confusion radiate from her, so he hurried on to explain. _‘I can feel how happy flying makes you,’_ he said. _‘I can sense how…free…you feel, and that helps me.’_

_‘Be free for me Aithusa, please.’_

There was a long moment of silence during which Merlin let Aithusa’s ardor wash over him. It did wonders to ease his aching heart.

 _‘I won’t be gone too long,’_ she promised.

_‘Thank you.’_

Merlin could feel that Aithusa had stayed connected to his emotions. For a moment, he allowed himself to get lost in the feeling of elation she had as she dived and twirled through the air high above him, forgetting his troubles for a time. It helped him regain his control.

Shaking himself, he turned to the second pile of clothes left in his room, picking up the note that had been left there for him.

 _‘Please take these as a gift with our compliments,’_ it read in a clear, flowing script. It was signed by a person named “Aelwen,” which meant little to him, never having heard the name before. He assumed it was someone important though.

He moved the note to the side and fingered the fabric of the offered clothes. They were made of the same soft fabric he was already wearing. The tunic and trousers were simple and unembellished despite what appeared to be the rather luxurious fabrics. The tunic was a deep jewel blue while the trousers were an ebony black.

Moving behind the changing screen in the corner, Merlin pulled on his new clothes. They fit him nicely, but with a more refined cut than he was used to.

He marvelled for a moment at the soft, slick feeling of the fabric. He had been a royal servant for many years, and by this point he was no stranger to the feel of expensive fabric, having washed and handled them enough, but he could not place this material.

When he moved out from behind the changing screen, his eyes fell again on his scarf. The bad memory from before was drowned out in Aithusa’s unbridled happiness as she continued to play in the air outside. Without hesitating any more, Merlin grabbed the fabric, rolled up a sleeve and tied it around his wrist before letting the sleeve fall again. His mother had made it for him, and he wanted to wear it. But not as a scarf, not anymore. That belonged to another life he wasn’t sure he could have any more.

Just as Merlin began to wonder what he was supposed to do now, the door to his room opened and in walked Tela.

“Ah, I see you’ve decided to accept Aelwen’s gift. I take it your feeling better then?” asked the healer upon seeing him.

“Yes, I feel fine now.”

“You don’t feel any dizziness or soreness in your chest?”

Merlin hesitated for a moment. He had not felt dizzy since the day before when he tried to stand and Aithusa stopped him. He did however still feel a deep-seated soreness in his chest, but it wasn’t that bad, and he knew it would go away. “No, I feel fine.”

Tela hummed disbelievingly at him as she lifted his chin and examined him. “Well, in any case you do not _appear_ to be suffering from any dizziness, though I’m quite sure you _do_ still feel sore.” He shifted uncomfortably under the healers watchful gaze. “But your well enough that I will not press any further treatment on you. What happens now is your decision.”

“Thank you,” said Merlin quietly.

“Who was it exactly that gifted me these clothes?” he asked after a moment.

“Aelwen, our leader. And she’s expressed a desire to meet with you when you are well enough to see her.”

“Why would she want to meet me?” he wondered aloud. He wasn’t anyone particularly important. _‘Although, I did come here with a baby dragon, so maybe that marks me as someone worth noticing.’_

Tela gave him a reassuring smile. “Aelwen is interested in meeting you because we very seldom play host to outsiders within our city. Your arrival was something of an event, for no other reason than because it has been many years since an outsider was seen here. Although, the dragon who arrived with you certainly helped to peak the peoples interest.”

A cold feeling was settling in Merlin’s chest. Did that mean that everyone in the city knew who he was now, that he had magic? Tela had told him the gift was not persecuted here, but he had lived his whole life hiding that one secret. The though of an entire city of people knowing was terrifying to him.

Sensing his growing distress, Tela placed a comforting hand on his left shoulder and gently raised his chin so she could look him in the eye. “The entire city does not know of your gifts my dear. Many of them may have guessed once news of the dragon spread, but they do not _know_. The only people who are privy to that knowledge are Arzela, Tadek, Aelwen and myself.”

“Who’s Tadek?”

“He was Arzela’s companion in Camelot when she found you. Only the people who were directly involved in bringing you here know anything for certain. There is no need for you to fear anything my dear.”

Merlin took a deep, steadying breath and nodded his thanks to the healer, just as a knock sounded on the door. They turned to find Arzela standing in the open doorway, one eyebrow raised as she watched them. “Am I interrupting something important?”

“Not at all, my dear,” – _‘I guess she just calls everyone that,’_ thought Merlin to himself – “But your arrival is mot opportune. Perhaps you could show Merlin here around the city?” said Tela.

Arzela looked to him as if to question if he was alright with that arrangement. He gave her a small nod. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to do. At least this gave him something to keep him busy while he tried to make some kind of decision.

“Well then, off with you both. I have work to do,” said Tela as she shuffled them out of the room. Once the door was closed she turned to Merlin. “I’ll have someone inform Aelwen that I’ve released you from the House of Healing, and your few possessions will be moved to accommodations for you. Someone will be sent to show you there when they are ready.”

With a nod to Arzela, the old healer left them. A long moment of silence stretched out. “Is there anything in particular you would like to see?” asked Arzela.

Merlin looked up form his wrist where he had tied what used to be his neckerchief. “Not really. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now.”

Arzela seemed to consider him for a long moment. “Is there anyone back in Camelot you would like to sent a letter to? Our messengers can reach them before the end of the day.”

Merlin froze as a feeling of guilt crept up on him. He had disappeared from the city completely, nobody knowing where he had gone. Everyone would be worried about him by now. He didn’t actually know how long he had been gone.

His first instinct upon the realization was to think what Arthur might believe about him now. He hoped his sudden disappearance did not act a just another nail in his not-so-metaphorical coffin with his king. The next place his mind when was to Gaius, and he felt suddenly sick. _‘By now, all of Camelot probably knows that I’m a sorcerer, and Gaius will be beside himself with worry that I disappeared without telling him anything,’_

“Yes, there’s someone I need to write to. They deserve to know I’m alright.”

Arzela nodded and began leading him down the hall and through the city.


	31. A Story or Two

Arzela led Merlin off down the hall and out of the House of Healing. She kept half an eye on the man as they walked, still immeasurably interested in the enigmas he presented, but not wanting to be too forward. _‘He seems rather like that kind of attention would only make him feel out of place.’_

She noticed him glancing around at everything as they walked, taking in the sights of the city with a look of open curiosity and no small amount of awe. “Where exactly are we?” he asked after a short while.

“A hidden valley located in the centre of the White Mountains.”

He cast his gaze around again, looking like he didn’t quite believe that answer. “If we’re so deep into the mountains, why is it so…warm?”

Arzela smiled softly at him. Well could she remember how confused she had been when she first came to the city. The White Mountains had been given their name for good reason, after all. “It would be better to show you than to simply give you that answer,” she said as she stopped walking and faced him. “But that would require us to go to the opposite end of the city from where we’re heading. Do you want to send off your letter first, or would you rather satisfy your curiosity?”

He fiddled with the red fabric tied to his wrist for a moment. She noticed that it was the same fabric he had been wearing as a scarf when they found him.

“I’d rather send off the letter first. I don’t want Gaius to have to worry about me any longer than he already has.”

She inclined her head and continued walking the way they had been. “ _‘Gaius’_ , I know that name,” she mused. “He’s the court physician of Camelot, isn’t he?”

“Yes. I’ve been living with him since I came to Camelot. He’s my guardian…was my guardian. I guess he can’t be anymore though,”

She heard the morose tone in the words.

“Your more than welcome to remain here, if you truly feel as though you cannot return to Camelot.”

He looked up at her with guarded eyes.

“You already knew I wouldn’t be able to return to Camelot though, didn’t you? That was part of the reason you brought me here, wasn’t it?”

 _‘This one’s deceptively astute for the persona I heard tell of in Camelot. Though I guess with his secret, he would have to be.’_ “I hoped to give you a place where you could be safe.”

“Why do you seem to care so much about me? I don’t even really know you.”

She breathed out a deep sigh before answering. _‘Well, he would have found out sometime anyways, why not now?’_ “Do I need a reason?”

He stopped as he scrutinized her. “Yes.”

She considered his determined expression for a long moment before smiling at the memories that came to her. “I care so much because once upon a time there was a young girl who found herself in a strange place, surrounded by strange people, with no idea how she had gotten there.”

His gaze softened as he took in the meaning of her words. “Your not from here,”

“No. I’m actually from Camelot originally.” There was a short pause. “I know what it’s like to wake up in a new place and not know how or why you came to be there, surrounded by people telling you they only mean to help. I know how hard it is to believe those words. But someone was there for me, to guide me through it. You have every right to be warry, but I hope, if nothing else, I can prove to you that you have no need to be.”

He remained silent for a long time, fiddling again with the fabric tied around his wrist. “Thank you.”

They continued walking towards the eyrie of the Prana, where their messenger birds were housed.

“Did…what happened to me…have you gone through the same thing?”

“No, I was brought here for a different reason entirely.”

“Do you mind if I ask what it was?”

Arzela couldn’t help but see the connection between what Tela had told her about this man, and her interactions with him right now. She was capable of feeling other peoples pain as if it were her own, but she herself didn’t open up to others easily. Now, she found herself both liking and wanting to be open with the man before her. _‘Perhaps he may actually be an Obical after all.’_

“I was still a child in Camelot when the late King Uther started his purge of magic. Not too far from where I lived was a sanctuary of the old religion dedicated to the White Goddess who granted healing to those worthy. Uther ordered it destroyed, the priests and priestesses there slaughtered. I remember the night the sanctuary was sacked and burned. It completely changed my life.”

“Many people from my town stood and watched the fires, not really sure what to do, or if they even should do anything. At some point, what looked like a strong gust of wind spread out, coming from the sanctuary, except you could _see_ it. Everyone else was only jostled slightly by it. But when it hit me, I felt it break open something in my chest before blacking out. When I woke, I could feel the pain of everyone in my village like it was my own, though it was a while before I figured out what was actually happening, why I felt the way I did.”

“There was more than enough pain in the world at that time to overwhelm me, and I couldn’t cope. Eventually, I ended up here, and was helped to control my new ability. And I haven’t left since.”

Arzela looked up to find Merlin watching her with bright eyes. Before anything else could be said, they entered the eyrie, and he became distracted with what was around him. He only stared around at the birds with a confused expression for a few heartbeats before shaking himself and turning back to her.

“You found me and wanted to help because of your ability,”

“Partly. I knew what was happening to you because of the research I had done to understand myself. But I didn’t actually use my ability on you until after hitting a wall as to how to help you. I got more than I bargained for though, and only stayed connected for a few seconds.”

He threw a questioning glance her way.

“Even with my past experiences, your pain in that moment was greater than anything I had ever experienced before. In those few seconds, I learned enough to understand the kind of man you are, and _that_ is why I’m so invested in helping you any way I can.”

He fiddled with his wrist again, apparently at a loss for words.

* * *

Gwaine noticed that he was not the only one who looked like he had lost sleep last night. That Arthur had not gotten very much sleep, if he got any at all, became a point of interest for him.

_‘If my hunch about what started all this is right, Princess would definitely have a lot to think about.’_

They moved out of town in the dead silence that had descended upon them since Merlin’s disappearance. Gwaine mulled over everything he knew and suspected as he rode. The biggest sticking point for him at the moment was deciding what, if anything, to tell the others. _‘If Merlin was sick from some kind of ailment that only magic could heal, that provides a good reason for the Varteesians to take him. But there is still the point of how he got sick in the first place.’_

He couldn’t get past the questionable timeframe of everything that had happened.

_‘First some magic psycho tries to kill Princess, Merlin stops said psycho, the two have some major fight about something, then Merlin disappears. Next, a couple of Varteesians somehow get a hold of Merlin while he’s ill, and decide to take him back to their city to be healed.’_

If his hunch was right about Merlin’s secret, that would have been enough reason for the Varteesians to get Merlin out of Camelot, but the illness complicated things.

All this happened in a single night, so everything would have to be immediately connected. _‘That puts an interesting link between Arthur and Merlin’s fight and Merlin’s illness.’_

He knew nothing about how magic really worked. But he knew Merlin. The man was loyal to Arthur to a fault. And he knew Arthur had a bit of a hot temper.

_‘Kind of like late daddy and evil sister actually,’_

Merlin wouldn’t have taken it well if Arthur had rejected him, no matter the situation. Gwaine couldn’t help but wonder if that was exactly what had made him sick. _‘Because that would give a damn good reason for the Varteesians to smuggle Merlin out of Camelot right away without telling anybody.’_

If he mentioned what he learned last night, he could probably judge if Arthur knew something from his reaction.

In the end, he decided not to say anything because anything he said might clue in the others to the same answers he suspected. He couldn’t help the glares he started to send Arthur’s way though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Well, this came about quickly after the last chapter. Some interesting background on Arzela in here, and she gets to tell Merlin what she did.  
> I soo want to unleash Gwaine on Arthur now, but I’m reeling him in for the moment. I’m debating between letting the claws come out of Gwaine, or having some Varteesians slap Arthur in the face with what he’s done. Either sounds appealing, but I’m holding back Gwaine because he’s still not completely certain that his hunch is right.  
> I feel kind of bad about keeping the other knights in the dark that Merlin’s ok though…I really can’t wait to see how everyone reacts when the truth comes out. *rubs hands together while cackling evilly*  
> Anyways, all comments always welcome!  
> May the water warm you.


	32. Shoulder Landings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Hello again my dear readers, I’ve got another chapter here for you. This one sat half-finished on my computer for a while. Not for any particular reason, just life and school (and my start-up business, if we want to get specific).  
> Anyways, Arthur’s confused and Aithusa’s adorable, so please, read and enjoy! All comments greatly appreciated.

Arthur still had not been able to come to terms with everything he had learned when morning broke out. There were dark circles under his eyes from his long, sleepless night. A large part of his problem stemmed from his inability to make any real sense out of most of what that dragon – _‘Gods help me,’_ – had said.

He didn’t move until he heard Leon rise in the room next door. Thankfully, he was able to quiet his churning thoughts while he and the knights made ready to leave. They decided to return to the place Percival and Gwaine had rejoined the road the day before, hoping to pick up the trail from there.

 _‘Gwaine seems particularly quiet this morning,’_ observed Arthur as he saddled his own horse, purely to stave off the moment he would be assaulted by his thoughts again. _‘He somehow looks calmer now than he has been the entire trip, and angrier than ever about something.’_

It made him distinctly nervous that the rouge knight seemed to be shooting death glares his way silently as they rode out of town. Despite appearances, he knew Gwaine to be highly observant. The man frequented taverns so much mostly for their entertainment value. _‘Though it is also because he has no small amount of love for ale.’_ His interactions with him yesterday had served to show him the man was dangerously close to guessing at what had really happened.

And just like that, he was brought back around to his midnight excursion, and the startling revelations that followed. He figured he could say with confidence that Merlin doesn’t just have magic, but is a dragon lord too. _‘The beasts comment about his_ “inheritance” _, along with the fact that it has left Camelot alone for years should be proof enough of that.’_

He felt a sharp stab of sympathy, as well as guilt. Well could he remember how they had travelled all that way, only for their last hope for Camelot to be snatched away by some of Cenred’s men.

_‘…No man is worth your tears…,’_

_‘Unless that man happens to be the father you’ve never known.’_

Merlin was a stronger man than him. He had been able to stuff away his grief when many lesser men of higher status would have been crippled. He doubted he could have done the same.

Beyond that shock, was learning that Merlin _knew_ the dragon long before it ever attacked the city, and that there was a convoluted history there.

_‘For some reason, I get the sense that beast actually cares about him now, even if he didn’t when all of that happened.’_

It really would be just like the man, to manage to make friends with a bloody dragon, of all things.

Then there were the things he could make neither hide nor hair of. The beast had called Merlin a “true warlock,” whatever that was, and he seemed to think that Merlin had some prophesized destiny and connection to him.

_‘You have no idea what it’s like to have a destiny you can’t escape…Destinies…are troublesome things…How come your so knowledgeable?...Hmm, I read a book.’_

At the time, he had just chocked it up to the oddity that was Merlin and his spontaneous bouts of wisdom. Yet with what he had learned, he supposed it could have been much more than that. Merlin had more than once talked about destiny and fate with him. Usually when he started to doubt himself. _‘Perhaps he was speaking from experience.’_

But that left the very big question of what exactly his destiny is, and what he had to do with it.

“Arthur,”

Percival’s voice brought him out of his thoughts. “This is where the trail rejoins the road.”

“Fan out and check the surrounding forest for tracks,” he ordered. “Angle northwards, towards the mountains, that’s where they’ve been heading since they left Camelot.”

The knights spread out in a line several dozen feet either side of the road, scanning the forest for anything that might help them. When it became clear that tracks would not be forthcoming, they continued to follow the road.

 _‘We should reach the foothills of the mountains by midday. Hopefully there will be tracks there for us to follow.’_ After so long, he wasn’t very hopeful they would be so lucky. _‘Our good luck charm isn’t here to help us anymore.’_

* * *

Merlin wasn’t sure how to react to Arzela’s story. He had often felt his magic as a burden in his early life. It was the reason he always had to be guarded around others, the reason he always had to hide. But at the same time, it had always been there for him, a warm presence of comfort that never left him.

That didn’t mean he had never found himself wishing he didn’t have magic, that he was normal, ordinary, because he had.

“You must have wanted to get rid of it,” he half-whispered into the silence that had stretched between them.

Arzela cocked her head at him. “At first I did, and for a long time after. It wasn’t until I came here and was helped to learn how to control it that I changed my mind. Now, I wouldn’t give my gift up for anything. It’s a part of me. I wouldn’t be the same person I am today without it.”

Merlin felt himself take in a deep, calming breath as an age-old tension bled out of his body. _‘She knows what it’s like. She understands.’_

They stood silently for a long time. Arzela seeming content to wait and let him work through his thoughts. Eventually his confusion upon entering the building they currently stood in returned to him.

“I thought we were going to see your peoples messengers,” he said. “Why are we in a building filled with birds?”

She chuckled slightly. “These birds _are_ our messengers.”

He turned to scan the many perches filling the walls of the tall, circular tower they stood in. Hawks, eagles, falcons, and the occasional owl lined the walls. There were numerous windows spaced throughout the building, none of which held any glass, instead being left open to the elements.

As he stood watching, a smaller bird streaked with slate gray stipes from mid-way up the tower dived towards them before landing gently on his shoulder. He hesitantly raised a hand to stroke it as it cooed into his ear affectionately.

“How are you able to deliver messages to specific people if you use birds?”

“Magic,” was the simple answer.

He paused for a moment, wondering. “Do you have magic?” he asked quietly.

“No,”

“But…your ability,”

“Is a kind of magic, yes, but it doesn’t allow me to use actual spells, and I’ve never felt inclined to pursue study.”

The bird on his shoulder continued to coo affectionately at him. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt like he was called Atlas. It just seemed to suit him.

“There’s paper and quill over there for you to write your letter,” said Arzela pointing to a table pushed against the wall to their right. “It seems like someone’s already volunteered to carry it.”

He moved off and wrote his letter, Atlas sitting complacently on his shoulder all the while. When he was done he rolled the page and tied it with some string left on the table for just such a purpose. He walked back over to Arzela who stood waiting, lounging against the open doorway for him. “How exactly does this work then?” he asked as he tied his letter to Atlas’ obliging leg.

“How does what work?” asked a new voice from just outside. Arzela turned to the new comer before waving in greeting. “I didn’t expect to see you here so early,” she said.

“I know your not sending a letter, so what brings you here?” asked the man as he walked in through the door, still looking at Arzela. He was neither tall nor short, with broad shoulders, long, slim hands and a kind face.

Arzela moved out of the way and gestured to him. “This is Merlin. He wanted to send off a letter, and I was showing him the way. Merlin, this is Eldert. He’s head of the Prana, the school of magicians responsible for training all our animals here in Vartee.”

“So you’re the newcomer then? It’s a pleasure to meet you Merlin.”

Eldert held out his hand for him to shake. As they shook, his eyes caught on Atlas perched on his shoulder and laughter flashed through them. “I see Atlas has taken a liking to you,” he said. “Why am I not surprised at you for it?”

The last part was addressed to Atlas, who chirped at him indignantly while ruffling his feathers.

Merlin was more distracted by the fact that his chosen name for his new friend was _actually_ his real name.

Eldert scrutinized Atlas for a moment longer before bursting out laughing, to both his and Arzela’s confusion. “What’s so funny?” she asked as he attempted to control himself.

He threw another look at Atlas who ruffled his feathers indignantly again. “I’m sorry, it’s just that…your name’s Merlin, and…well, Atlas here _is_ a merlin.”

He looked back to the bird sitting on his shoulder, who currently had his beak pointed high in the air and was managing to look extremely aloof about it all. Without thinking, Merlin reached out with his mind towards the bird. _‘You knew my name, just as I knew yours, didn’t you?’_

Atlas turned bright eyes to him, but made no reply. He seemed to understand though. Eldert had stopped laughing and was looking between the two of them, his eyebrows traveling farther up his forehead as the minutes passed by. “Merlin, would you by chance happen to have magic?” he asked when his eyebrows could go no further.

He turned to face the older man, his palms beginning to sweat out of pure habit. “What makes you think that?” _‘How did he know? What gave me away?’_ He had been told that magic was allowed here, but old habits die hard, it seemed.

Arzela chose then to intervene. “Eldert, he’s from Camelot.”  
Comprehension dawned on the other man’s face. “Oh, I’m sorry. Your probably used to hiding your gifts from everyone, and then I go and blurt out a question like that,”

Eldert watched him sadly as he took deep breaths attempting to calm himself. Suddenly he felt Aithusa take notice of his anxiety from wherever she was. He figured she would be on her way to him soon.

“It’s fine…it’s just…how did you know?”

“The way you’re interacting with Atlas, how he seemed to know he was in a way your namesake.” He paused for a moment, eyes searching his. “Did you happen to know Atlas’ name without being told what it was?”

“I…how did you know?”

Eldert smiled encouragingly at him. “Mine is a school of magic that teaches us how to connect with the creatures of nature. It’s how we train our animals. We guide them through learning to listen to others through the magic that touches us all. It allows our animals to understand us more completely than they ever could otherwise, and us them. Knowing the name of a creature without having to be told is one of the easiest and earliest manifestations of my craft.”

Eldert looked between him and Atlas, a strange expression on his face.

“Oh, I…didn’t know,” he said awkwardly to fill the silence.

“I wouldn’t have expected you to. I’m just surprised you were able to connect with Atlas like that so naturally. It usually takes years of study to get to that point.”

He said nothing to that, having long since accepted the fact that his magic was…different…from everyone else’s. He had never really known why. _‘Well, I do know_ why _, I guess. Because of my destiny. But I don’t now how exactly it came to be so different.’_ He simply didn’t know enough to explain it.

A gentle touch on his arm brought him back to his surroundings, and he looked to Arzela. “All you have to do to send off your missive is tell Atlas who you want it delivered to, and where they are,” she explained. “He will figure out the rest.”

He ceased stroking Atlas’ feathers, instead just looking at him. “Can you take my letter to Gaius in Camelot?” he asked, while simultaneously reaching towards the bird with this mind. _‘Make sure he’s alone when you give it to him too.’_

Atlas blinked at him before digging in his claws momentarily and taking flight. He nearly collided with Aithusa as he went to fly out the open doorway. He squawked at her in surprise. Aithusa hung in the air blocking the door with her larger wingspan just long enough to blow smoke in Atlas’ face. The smaller bird squawked indignantly again before shooting around her.

Merlin was trying hard to keep from keeling over in laughter. He was pretty sure Aithusa had seen Atlas sitting on his shoulder, and it had made her jealous. _‘And I’m pretty sure she said something to scare Atlas off too, even if I didn’t actually hear anything.’_

Eldert stood next to Arzela, watching with interest as the baby dragon huffed at the retreating bird and flew over to him, settling on his left shoulder.

He nearly lost his balance when she landed, tucking her tail around his neck to hold on. _‘Ugh, you’re heavier than you look Aithusa.’_

She glared at him for several heartbeats before mischief glinted in her eyes. She “slipped” and clipped his head with her wing. _‘Oops, sorry. Lost my balance,’_ she said cheerfully in his mind.

_‘Are you really that jealous just because Atlas was sitting on my shoulder?’_

_‘I don’t have any idea what your talking about.’_

_‘You know, you’ll be far too big to fit there for long. You’ve seen how large Kilgharrah is.’_

_‘But I fit now,’_ she said innocently.

_‘I guess you do.’_

_‘And I’m not fool enough to sit on your injured shoulder.’_

For some reason, it hardly stung for Aithusa to mention his recent experience, unlike with anyone else. She hummed happily as he scratched her under the chin, arching into him like a cat. Somehow, he felt better just having her so close.

When he remembered their company, he glanced over to find Eldert with calculating eyes, and Arzela with an amused raised eyebrow.

“Merlin, how would you like to study magic in my school?” asked Eldert.


	33. Oops

Midday found Gaius standing in his workshop, mortar and pestle in hand and mind far away. Three days ago, Arthur and the knights had set out to find Merlin. It had been three days since Arthur – _‘And by extension, Guinevere,’_ – found out the truth. Three days since his ward had disappeared without a trace.

The first couple days had not been filled with as much fretting and worry as one might have expected. Something had actively seen to that. _‘Or at least tried it’s hardest to do so.’_

That fact was almost as concerning as his wards disappearance. He didn’t know of many individuals who could have affected him along with everyone else like that, all while maintaining a powerful storm. He had never heard of such a thing before, which made him wonder what was really going on. The only thing he knew for certain was they had stumbled into playing part in a much larger game, no doubt one with far-reaching consequences. Weather those would be for good or ill was another matter entirely.

Gaius was brought sharply out of his thoughts by a tapping sound coming from his window. Looking over, he saw a small gray falcon sitting on the sill staring pointedly at him. After an initial moment of confusion, he noticed a letter tied to the bird’s leg.

Quick as a flash, he was across the room opening the window and stepping aside to let it into his home. Only when it landed on what clear space it could find on one of his tables did it register what kind of bird this was.

“Merlin,” he whispered brokenly as he sprang forward and untied the letter from the birds leg. He hardly noticed as it ruffled it’s feathers importantly before taking off, too absorbed by the painfully familiar script of the letter.

_‘Gaius,_

_I’m sorry I just disappeared like this. I didn’t mean to._

_You’ve probably already figured it out by now, but Arthur knows about me. He found out the night that assassin attacked him in his chambers. I couldn’t let him be killed, I had no choice but to stop it._

_He didn’t take finding out well. I don’t think I’ll be welcome in Camelot again._

_Please don’t worry about me, I’ve found a good place to stay, somewhere I don’t have to hide. And Gaius, if anyone…if the others still want to know, tell them I’m sorry I lied. I never wanted to, and it wasn’t because I didn’t trust them enough._

_Thank you for everything you’ve done for me. Now I guess I’ve got to make my own way,_

_Merlin.’_

Gaius scrubbed fruitlessly at the tears in his eyes, clutching the letter in a shaking hand to his chest. That was how Gwen found him when she came to check on him some time latter.

* * *

Gwaine was no closer to figuring out how he should feel now than he was that morning. They searched for tracks the entire way to the foot of the mountains, but found nothing.

_‘Either the storm that waylaid us came out this far and washed all evidence of tracks away, or it’s just been too long and the trails already gone cold.’_

Princess now had them scouring the foot of the mountains looking for evidence of some hidden trail or something, but they were having no luck finding an answer as to where their friend had gone.

 _‘I don’t know why we’re wasting out time here with this. If it was really this easy to find the Varteesians, everyone would know where they come from.’_ He said nothing though.

The whole situation presented an intriguing opportunity to him. The Varteesian from back in town said that Merlin had been taken because he was ill. If that was the case, he would be sure to make his way back to Camelot when he recovered. If however, as he thought was more likely, there was an additional reason Merlin had been taken, he probably wouldn’t come back at all.

_‘If my hunch is right, the Varteesians took him both because he was ill and because he would be safer with them then in Camelot.’_

Merlin had probably long dreamed of living in a place where he would be accepted, but had perhaps not been hopeful he would live to see that dream come true. A place like Vartee, where they were so secluded and therefore free to do as they pleased would be more than tempting for him. _‘And I can’t even find it within myself to be angry at him for it. If anything, I think this has all been for the good. At least now he can be safe somewhere he doesn’t have to hide.’_ The Varteesians would surely protect him, since they had already done so much to help him.

In the end, Gwaine made peace with the fact that Merlin’s return was officially out of their hands. It was just a matter of time before Princess figured it out too.

 _‘And the next time I get to be alone with him, we’ll have a nice little chat about just what exactly happened that night with the assassin.’_ It would likely have to wait until they were back in Camelot. They were too likely to be overheard by the others out here. _‘Though who am I to argue with an opportunity if it presents itself?’_

* * *

Merlin could only stare at Eldert.

“I…you want to…are you saying…why?”

The older man continued to study him, glancing occasionally at Aithusa, his eyes bright and interested. “Your clearly a natural at earth-magic. You already have an impressive degree of skill in it. I can’t help but be interested in seeing what you would be capable of with the proper training when you do not have to limit yourself.” His kind face gave him a warm smile.

Merlin was too stunned to answer. _‘Magic is legal here. I don’t have to hide. I could learn more, test myself, meet other sorcerers like me who only want to help.’_ The thought almost made him giddy.

He only half noticed Eldert attempting to backtrack, probably thinking he had overstepped the bounds in his own excitement.

“Yes,”

Eldert stopped mid-sentence and scrutinized him. “I’m sorry?” he said politely.

“Yes I…I want to learn. I’d love to join your school.” His voice grew in strength from his initial hesitancy as he spoke.

_‘I can’t go back to Camelot now, so I have no reason not to stay here and learn more about magic. I might even be able to learn some way of keeping an eye on things from afar. I don’t want to completely abandon everyone else in Camelot.’_

Eldert shook his hand enthusiastically. “Wonderful. I’ll leave you to get acquainted with the city today, but I’ll expect to see you at fifth bell tomorrow in Prana House. I look forward to working with you.” Eldert said his goodbyes to them before moving off to do whatever work he had originally come for, a little spring in his step.

“Did you ever live amongst the Druids?” asked Arzela when he was gone.

“No, why do you ask?”

She shrugged at him. “They tend to excel in earth-magic. It would give a good reason for you being so naturally gifted in it is all.”

“Is it really that unusual?” he asked, feeling a little worried now.

“I don’t rightly know. Earth-magic is not exactly my forte. I studied more about soul-magic myself. In any case, you seem to have thoroughly impressed Eldert.”

As they talked, they left behind the eyrie of the messenger birds and began walking back across the city. Unlike their previous walk where the other inhabitants had yet to rise, the streets were filled with people milling about fulfilling whatever duty or chore it was they had.

Merlin felt his spirits soar as he witnessed person after person use magic openly in the streets around him. He saw an old woman speak a spell confidently and levitate a heavy crate she certainly wouldn’t have been able to carry down the street on her own. Another younger man was making brightly coloured displays of sparks for a small crowd of laughing children all trying fruitlessly to grab hold of the shapes. Their tiny fists would scatter the spots of colour for a moment, then they would coalesce back together, forming a different shape from before.

His growing giddiness became contagious to Aithusa. She shifted restlessly on his shoulder before taking flight and following them from the air. When she started to attract her own crowd of enamoured onlookers, she began doing tricks, blowing rings of smoke after laughing children who seemed to hold no fear of her at all.

 _‘Show off,’_ he playfully prodded at her mind.

She landed on his shoulder before responding. _‘You do something!’_

For a split second, he geared up to refuse, but then stopped himself. _‘I think I will,’_ he told her.

Aithusa’s audience had transferred their interest onto him by this point. Some of the adults were whispering to their pears about her willingly sitting on his shoulder, and what it might mean. A group of children gathered around his feet, pointing at Aithusa. One small girl with a wicker basket caught his eye, and he had an idea.

He bent down to her level. “Hello little lady, what’s your name?”

She giggled at the address. “Ira.”

“Ira, that’s a pretty name. I wonder my lady, if I could borrow your basket?”

She blushed brightly as she giggled, holding out the basket to him. “I’ll need that back!” she called sternly up to him when he took it.

“You have my solemn word, my lady,” he said in his best important-grave-knight voice.

He whispered a spell into the basket, making sure to cover the small opening, then handed it back to the little girl with the lid firmly in place. Ira curiously opened the lid, and out flew a dozen bright azure butterflies, eliciting a squeal of delight from her as well as the other children.

They all set about attempting to catch the butterflies out of the air. One boy managed it, cupping it in his hands. He looked extremely surprised when it didn’t disintegrate at his touch. They had clearly been expecting another intangible display.

The knowledge that the butterflies were _real_ only spurred them on in their attempts to catch every fluttering insect. The children ran off in all directions in hot pursuit of their quarry, parents sprinting along after them exasperatedly.

He noticed Arzela come up beside him. “Well, you certainly made more of an impression than I did when I first got here.”

He was busy watching the floundering parents. “Oops,”

She dissolved into laughter next to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Well, that last scene was extremely fun to write. “Oops,” indeed. I needed a good reason for Merlin to feel comfortable in Vartee, and what better way than with a crowd of delighted children not afraid of him (or Aithusa for that matter)?  
> So, Gaius and now Gwen know that Merlin is not in mortal danger, and Gwaine is going to have a nice “chat” with Arthur the first chance he gets. Hehe, this should be interesting. I have a few surprises in store, so hopefully you guys like where this is all going.  
> Thanks for reading, and please, leave a review, I love hearing your comments on the way the story is going!  
> May the water warm you,


	34. Hidden Bliss

Gwen shut the door to hers and Arthur’s chambers with a snap before bolting it closed. She only just managed to make it to a seat before she collapsed, attempting in vain to stem the flood of tears that were finally bursting through their bounds. In her hand, she clutched the letter she had – after much difficulty and persuasion – managed to convince Gaius to allow her to take.

_‘…if the others still want to know, tell them I’m sorry I lied. I never wanted to, and it wasn’t because I didn’t trust them enough…’_

She tried taking deep, calming breaths in an effort to stop herself from crying, but they were coming out much more like gasps of air. Merlin’s letter proved to her without a doubt that he really was who she thought he had always been.

_‘Gaius told me Merlin was born with magic. Hunith must have taught him to hide his gifts right from the start. He would have always been told to keep it a secret, no matter how much he trusted the people around him. He must have hated lying, but he did it anyway, maybe because he didn’t want to be rejected by everyone he cared about.’_

That line of thinking was why she had tears in her eyes now. He _had_ been rejected for his magic. Arthur had thrown him out, and must have told him to leave Camelot for good if he valued his life. _‘That must have been his worst fear realised, Arthur banishing him like that and threatening him with death if he ever returned.’_

And he thought the rest of them would want nothing to do with him anymore. _‘Because of course he would, Arthur was his best friend, though neither of them would have admitted it, and he couldn’t accept him.’_ He thought they wouldn’t even care enough to wonder if he was alright or not.

_‘He must have been so lonely, all the time. Living day in and day out like that.’_

But his letter revealed almost as much as it hid. He was careful, both in not mentioning where he had disappeared to, and in avoiding mentioning his gift lest the wrong person come into possession of the letter.

If she knew nothing else, she would have no inkling as to where he might be now or what he was talking about. If she knew nothing beyond him having magic, she might have guessed he had gone to the Druids, but that didn’t seem quite right. Gwaine had said that the Varteesians they thought had kidnapped him had always been peaceful, if illusive in the past. It didn’t quite make senses for them to spirit him away like they had, even with magic, unless there was something else going on.

_‘Giaus told Arthur that Merlin might have become ill from his rejection, but he doesn’t seem to think he would have been able to send this letter if that was the case. But I can’t think of any better reason for those people to be so prompt in taking him if he was sick and they could help him.’_

The problem was they only knew or guessed at bits and pieces here and there. They had nothing resembling the whole picture, so they had no real idea what was going on. The only things she knew for certain were that Merlin wasn’t in danger, and Arthur and the knights were not likely to find him. _‘And he thinks we all hate him.’_

Gaius had been too distracted by his thoughts to think of sending a reply with the bird that had delivered the letter. _‘A merlin, because of course it was. He would find that funny.’_

She placed the letter reverently on the table and smoothed it’s creases, wiping at her eyes to get rid of the evidence of tears. She managed to take her first steady breath as a knock sounded on the door. She crossed the room, regaining her regal demeanour as she unbolted it to reveal the castle Steward on the other side.

“My lady,” he said, bowing low to her in deference. “May we come in?” He motioned to a young blond girl standing just behind him with her head bowed and fidgeting nervously.

“Of course. Come in and have a seat,” she said motioning towards the table.

The Steward smiled gratefully while the young girl glanced up, surprised she would offer them both a seat. When everyone was settled, she spoke. “What brings you here Steward?”

He gestured again to the young girl at his side. “I believe I have found you a maidservant you will be pleased with, my lady.”

She turned smiling eyes onto the younger girl. It had taken a long time – _‘Most of the past three months, in fact,’_ – for Arthur to finally convince her to take up her own personal maidservant. After a long conversation between them, Merlin, and the castle Steward, she had finally agreed to it provided they found someone who could benefit from the wages and had not served alongside her in the castle. _‘It would have felt too strange to be waited on hand-and-foot by a friend I made while rubbing elbows at the wash.’_

“She is newly come to Camelot, and arrived on her own,” said the Steward.

She saw then why he had picked the young girl for the job. “Then I welcome you to Camelot,” she said speaking to the girl, a warm, inviting smile on her face. “And what might your name be?”

The girl shot a glance at the Steward for a second before replying in a quiet voice. “Sefa.”

“Sefa, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Might I ask what brought you here?”

“My father sent me to the city to see if I could find some work. We’ve been travelling a long time.”

She smiled encouragingly at the girl.

“You are satisfied with my choice my lady?”

“Yes, thank you Steward, you’ve done well.” She turned again to Sefa. “Have you ever served a noble before Sefa?”

“No, I’ve only ever lived with my father.”

She nodded, not having expected anything different. “Have someone like Lolita show her what she’ll need to know,” she said to the Steward before speaking to Sefa. “You can help out some of the other servants for the next couple of days to get more acquainted with the castle and your duties before you start for me. Does that sound good to you?”

“Yes, thank you your majesty!” she said, sounding excited now that she knew her lack of experience was not going to annul her appointment to the job.

“Good. Thank you Steward, you may both go now.”

“My lady,” said the Steward bowing by way of goodbye. Sefa gave a little curtsey before scurrying off after him.

* * *

When she managed to regain her composure, Arzela turned to Merlin. “Would you like to escape the limelight now, or would you rather delight a few more children while exasperating their parents?”

The little dragon made a funny kind of rumbling noise that may have been laughter while Merlin looked sheepish. “I’d like to be out of the limelight, if it was possible.”

She tilted her head while motioning to a more secluded side street. “You asked me before how we could be so high up in the mountains and yet still be so warm,” she prodded as they continued. “Do you want that answer now?”

“Yes. You said you would have to _show_ me?”

She nodded and changed direction at the next juncture, heading to the south-west where the lake lay.

Merlin continued to take in all the sights around them as they walked. “The streets here seem almost…unusually straight,” he said after a time.

“I’m surprised you noticed. It’s because this is a planned city. Vartee didn’t grow naturally over the years. It was all built as you see it now from the very beginning.”

“How did that happen? Why would someone build an entire city if it wasn’t needed?”

“This cities founder, a man named Faragher was not a traveling noble or a warlord looking for power. He was a scholar, first and foremost, and he held a great many revolutionary beliefs that left him dissatisfied with the squabbling monarchies of his time. Over his travels he gained a devoted following, being a man gifted with a gilded tongue and a wise head. When he and his disciples stumbled onto this valley, they decided to build it in their image of utopia. They designed and built everything you see.”

“But why? I’ve never even heard of this place before. Surely Faragher didn’t have enough followers to fill an entire city with?”

“You’d be right in thinking that. Unfortunately, neither Faragher nor any of his disciples are still around to explain their reasoning to us. My guess is that they were operating under the assumption that _‘if we build it, they will come’_.”

“How would people know to come though? This place is so well hidden.”

“It wasn’t always. In the beginning, Faragher’s hidden mountain city was widely known. But the rest of the world believed very different things from him. Many neighboring kingdoms began to see the city as a threat to their rule, since it was an independent. People were leaving other kingdoms to come here if they became dissatisfied with their home governments.”

“Over the years the tensions grew, and Vartee was actively written out of histories elsewhere, and eventually forgotten. The people here became evermore illusive to the rest of the world.”

“So they just forgot about you? Just like that?”

“Not exactly. There were a few scrapes. But, as you might imagine, this location proved very difficult to conquer. The mountain passes used at the time to reach the city were impassible for all but a few months out of the year. There was always ample warning of any attack attempt. And often the city didn’t have to do anything but wait for the mountains to claim the armies of would-be-invaders.”

By now they had reached the ring of farmland around the city and were walking through a field of wheat growing entirely out of season. Merlin glanced around him, clearly confused. “How is it your crops already look ready to harvest? It can’t have had more than a few months to grow.”

“We don’t actually get winter here. We can grow crops all year round.”

“Really?”

“Yes,”

“How is that possible though?”

She smiled at him, liking where their conversation had led them. “ _This_ is how it’s possible,” she said, gesturing out at the lake with a flourish.

Merlin took in the shimmering surface of the water, a frown marring his face. After a moment, it relaxed into a look of interest. “It’s warmer here than in the city proper,” he said. “And this lake is steaming.”

“It’s fed by a hot spring, and the water is warm all year long. We’re high enough that we _should_ exist in a perpetual state of winter, but because of this lake, we instead live in never-ending summer.”

“Is the water safe to enter?” he asked approaching the shoreline carefully, eying the steam farther out.

“The shallows where we are, yes, but the deeper portions, not so much. The deeper the water, the hotter it is.”

No sooner than she had finished speaking, the dragon dived head-first into the lake, spraying the rest of them with hot water. She made a valiant effort to hold in her snickering when she saw Merlin sopping wet and glaring at the playing dragon, hands on his hips.

_‘They must be having a private conversation, what with the intensity of their gazes on each other.’_

She wondered vaguely if Merlin was even conscious of the fact he was not speaking aloud. _‘He may not have noticed at all.’_ She didn’t feel it was her place to tell him though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Damn, worldbuilding! Is it weird that I knew none of this before I wrote it down? It works though, so whatever.  
> Metaphorical cookies to anyone who can see where Camelot might be going in Merlin’s absence.  
> Anyways, let me know what you guys think! And may the water warm you (XD Does that blessing/goodbye make sense now?)


	35. Rightfully Yours

_‘Was that really necessary?’_ grumbled a sopping Merlin in his mind as he spoke to Aithusa.

 _‘What? She said it was safe,’_ was the overly-innocent reply.

He shook his head, watching her dive and dart through the water. _‘You look like your enjoying yourself.’_

It was more than that though. He could feel her excitement. She had clearly never seen a lake like this before. He remembered reading about hot springs once in one of Gaius’ books, but he had never actually seen one for himself. He could feel Aithusa lit with the thrill of new discoveries, and his stern façade shattered.

_‘The water is so warm! Usually big ponds are cold. I don’t like going into those, it’s uncomfortable. But this is great!’_

He couldn’t help but smile as he watched her play. It was the kind of innocent delight he had not even realised he had lost. _‘And now, for whatever reason, I can feel it anew through Aithusa,’_ he thought privately.

“Considering we’re already soaked through, do you want to have a go in the water too?” asked Arzela from next to him.

“No thanks. I’m not interested. I’m happy just watching her,” he said pointing to Aithusa, who had just shot up in an arc out of the water before diving in again.

“In that case, would you mind drying us both off? I’d rather not have squishy shoes while walking all the way back to the training field.”

“How could I help you with that? It’s not like I have a towel on me or anything.”

She raised an eyebrow at him before continuing in a softer tone of voice. “You could dry us both off with magic.”

Once again he only stared, having forgotten that he could use his powers here without fear or repercussions. “I hadn’t thought of that,” he mumbled.

“That’s alright. There was a reason I suggested it.”

He thought for a moment, then whispered a spell to dry their clothes. The water steamed away form them, leaving the fabric feeling warm and soft against his skin again. Aithusa chose that moment to shoot into the air, sprinkling their just-dried clothes with small droplets of water. _‘At least she didn’t soak us this time.’_

When she was dry, she came back and landed carefully on his shoulder. He remembered to brace himself for the extra weight this time and didn’t stumble.

 _‘How come you like the water so much?’_ he asked her when she landed, still feeling her excitement about it all.

She cocked her head at him. _‘I don’t know exactly. Maybe because it feels like it belongs with my fire? The heat of the water just feels good.’_

_‘I guess that makes sense when you can literally breath fire.’_

She paused for a moment, frozen on his shoulder. He could feel a myriad of different emotions run through her because of his comment. _‘Aithusa? What’s wrong?’_

There was a long pause before she answered him. _‘…I can’t breath fire,’_

That stopped him in his tracks. _‘What? Why not?’_

_‘I don’t know. I can feel the fire in my chest, but it never feels strong enough to let out.’_

He considered that for a moment. He had seen her breath smoke, which would suggest that she was _capable_ of breathing fire, even if she couldn’t yet. _‘Your still not even a year old. Maybe you’re just not old enough yet,’_ he said trying to comfort her a little. _‘I’ll have to ask Kilgharrah about that sometime, though I’m sure it’s fine,’_ he thought privately.

He had almost forgotten about Arzela by then, and jumped in surprise when she cleared her throat next to him. “Having a private conversation, are we?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.

He looked at her sheepishly. “Sorry. We just left you standing there staring at us didn’t we? I hadn’t even realised I wasn’t speaking aloud. Although, I should have, since Aithusa can’t actually speak yet.”

“So her name’s Aithusa then is it?”

“Um, yes? Did you not know that already?”

She shook her head. “She didn’t tell Tela, and I don’t have magic, so she couldn’t have told me even if she wanted to.”

He looked to Aithusa then. “Why didn’t you tell them your name?” he asked, making the effort to say it verbally rather than with his mind.

_‘It didn’t seem important at the time.’_

“What did she say?”

He turned back to Arzela. “That she didn’t feel it was important.”

“Hmm, I guess in hindsight, it really wasn’t.” She turned to face the steaming lake before shaking herself. “I think we’ve dallied long enough here. Aelwen told me she wanted to meet with you when you were recovered. Would you be opposed to meeting with her now?”

When he shook his head, she led him back towards the city away from the hot spring lake. Now able to see the city in profile, he picked out the tallest building, wondering what it housed. _‘Since they don’t seem to have need of a fortified citadel here.’_ “What’s that building for?” he asked indicating the tallest one.

“That’s the library.”

“The _library_? But it’s enormous! It can’t _all_ be filled with books, can it?”

“Mostly. The top few floors are pretty empty, but it’s still pretty full.”

“That’s a lot bigger than the archives at Camelot.”

“I have no doubt. As I said before, Faragher was a scholar. He believed in the power of knowledge, even if he was wise enough not to rely solely on it. Our seclusion usually worked to our advantage when it came to books. Writings banned elsewhere have a penchant for ending up here.”

“…The books burned during the purge?” he prodded tentatively.

“A lot of copies, and even some originals were collected by our agents outside of the city and smuggled here for safety.”

“Would I be allowed in?”

“Everyone’s allowed in. Just be respectful to the books and refrain from making too much noise. The record keepers are king in there, and they’re armed with wooden rulers that have no small amount of bite.”

“You sound like you know that from experience,” he laughed.

Arzela gave him an innocent look, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “I haven’t any idea what it is your talking about,” she managed with a straight face.

It sent him over the edge as they walked. His chest hurt from laughing so hard by the end of it.

By that point, they had reached a small house with a luscious garden that looked about the same as all of the others they had passed. Arzela knocked on the door and waited patiently for someone to answer. After a moment, it opened to reveal a woman with grey eyes and flossy hair who seemed just as spry as Arzela, despite being at least a decade older.

“Arzela,” greeted the woman who Merlin assumed was Aelwen.

“Good morning,” said Arzela, giving him a little push forward. “This is Merlin. You asked to see him when he was feeling better.”

The wrinkles around Aelwen’s eyes crinkled as she smiled at him. “Thank you for bringing him here Arzela, I was just about to go to the House of Healing to see if Tela had let him go yet.”

“Hello Merlin, my name is Aelwen, and I’m the leader of these people,” she introduced herself, holding out a hand for him to shake.

“Aelwen, could I – ”

“Off to practice with you,” said Aelwen, cutting Arzela off before she could finish. “You don’t want to keep Bhatair waiting.”

She flashed them both a grateful smile before taking off. “Why don’t you come in and have a seat then Merlin,” said Aelwen when she disappeared.

He stepped into the older woman’s home. There was nothing untoward around the house, nothing at all that would mark this as the home of the leader of such a prosperous city. The furniture was simple, but comfortable looking, and the place smelled of woodsmoke and fresh baked bread. He sat in a plush armchair facing a low table too short to eat at. Aithusa fluttered down onto his lap while Aelwen took a seat in the match to his own chair.

“So, Merlin,” began the older woman. “I know you were brought here without your consent while you were gravely ill. I hope it was not too much of a shock for you to have awoken here.”

“I think I was more shocked by where I _wasn’t_ than by where I _was_ ,” he mumbled.

She watched him with sad eyes. “Arzela and Tadek told me they believed you to be manservant to the King of Camelot, that is the truth then?”

He could feel again that soreness in his chest.

 _‘Merlin?’_ prodded Aithusa as she nuzzled him.

He hugged her closer to himself and was able to take a deep, steadying breath before raising his eyes to meet Aelwen’s. “I was.” He was surprised by how little his voice shook.

She tactfully moved on, not deigning to mention his sudden distress. “I notice your companion,” she said, gesturing to Aithusa, who sat studying the woman. “I have to say I didn’t quite believe Arzela’s letter when she mentioned her, but the proof is her before my very eyes.”

“Seeing Aithusa was probably the biggest shock of waking up here.”

“I’m sure. But you seem to have already known her, you even know her name. Aithusa? How did that come about?”

This felt like a loaded question, but he couldn’t figure out where it was leading exactly. _‘Although, my soul and the dragon’s are supposed to be brothers. They seem to know a lot more about that kind of magic here. Maybe she’s just curious?’_

“…What exactly are you asking me?” he hedged, still so used to hiding.

“You arrived in our city with an infant dragon who refused to leave your side at a time when the Dragon Lords, along with the dragons themselves, were thought to be dead or extinct. In light of that, I must ask, are you a Dragon Lord?”

“Would it matter if I was?” He was only just skirting the question, he knew. He didn’t know why his heritage as a dragon lord would be such a big deal if magic was allowed. _‘I’d rather air on the side of caution.’_

“It would indeed. There is a treasure, of sorts, hidden within this city that would rightfully belong to the Dragon Lords, should they still exist. If _you_ are a Dragon Lord, then it would follow that it rightfully belongs to _you_.”

“Even if I admitted to being a dragon lord, I could be lying to get this treasure,” he pointed out. _‘Why not? If treasure is involved. There are probably plenty of people who would do that.’_

She sat back and considered him for a long moment. “You could be. But then again, if you were, I do believe your young friend would not be here with us.”

He gazed into the older woman’s grey eyes for a long time before making his decision. “…I am a dragon lord,” he half-whispered.

Her eyes brightened as she smiled. “Then I have something to show you which I believe you will be very pleased to see.”

She went over to her large oaken desk and pulled out a small locked box. She opened it only to pull out a strange looking, ancient key which she pocketed. Wondering where this was going, he followed her out of the city and up an old hidden path through the mountains surrounding the valley.

“Several hundred years ago, the cities most accomplished seer went to the mayor of the time with a proposal, and a warning. They spoke of a time when magic would be forcibly driven from the world by one man’s terrible grief, and the devastation that would be left in the wake. The seer proposed a quest of sorts which would allow us here, in our great seclusion, to do our part in the face of that great loss,” she explained as they climbed the carved stone stairs overlooking the valley.

“The seer predicted the Great Purge,” he said, Aithusa staying quiet on his shoulder. “And what would happen during it, didn’t they?”

“Yes. They proposed that we collect as much of the worlds knowledge as we could, since we already had an archives large enough to hold it. But they also proposed we collect something else far more precious to keep safe until they were needed.”

“What was the other thing they wanted to collect?”

“You will see.”

At last they reached a small landing carved in the rock. A heavy, intricately carved door stood with a mountain behind it in front of them. Aelwen fitted the key she had taken from her house into the lock and turned it. An echoing clang greeted them as the door slid back an inch. She pushed heavily against the door and it swung open inwards revealing a set of narrow stone stairs leading deeper into the mountain.

“Where are you leading me?” he asked, feeling a little apprehensive now.

“All treasures need to be kept safe. This is the vault where we hid what I intend to show you.”

She handed him the key before leading the way down the stairs. After a moments hesitation, he followed.

_‘Aithusa? What do you think of all this?’_

_‘There’s something here, but I’m not sure what it is. I think it’s a good thing though, but I don’t know why.’_

Eventually they came into an open chamber lit with bright white shafts of light from above. As he entered, his breath caught in his throat and Aithusa squawked in delighted surprise. Sitting in cushioned niches along the walls were seven objects, each a different colour. He found himself looking at seven carefully housed objects, one each in red, blue, yellow, orange, green, brown and black. Aithusa flew off his shoulder and landed next to the blue one, sniffing at it while chirping happily.

“Are these…” he began, his voice hoarse, overcome with sudden joy.

“Dragon eggs? Yes, yes they are.”

Tears of joy blurred his eyes as he reverently joined Aithusa next to the egg. _‘Seven eggs Aithusa! We can save the dragons!’_

She let out a humming chirp as she launched onto his shoulder in her elation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: I wanted so bad to get to this point in the story, and now I’m here! (and only now am I wondering where it is I’m supposed to go from here).  
> So, what does everyone think of Aelwen? Does she seem interesting? I like the kind of battle of wills that happens between her and Merlin. It seemed like something along those lines needed to happen. Merlin was trying to figure out if he should be worried about where he’s ended up, and Aelwen was trying to figure out if she could trust him with her (not so little) secret.  
> Reviews always greatly appreciated!  
> May the water warm you,


	36. Searches

Aithusa found it extremely difficult to contain her enthusiasm, not that she was really trying very hard though. She flew in continuous circles around the room, revelling in the presence of no less than _seven_ dragon-kin. She could tell that each egg was healthy and the infants within would grow up strong.

 _‘I can have other dragons to play with!’_ she told Merlin, who was smiling up at her with tears in his eyes.

 _‘There are other dragons! I wont be the last after all!’_ she thought excitedly.

In the short time she had been alive, she had already come to the realization that she would be the last of her kind.

_‘Merlin’s memories told me that much. And I know Kilgharrah will not be here forever.’_

She found that her thoughts existed in a strange kind of limbo. She had experienced Merlin’s memories as if she were him, and he was considered an adult amongst his own kind. As herself, she only cared for having the potential for playmates like her. From Merlin, she had thoughts of what continuing forward into the future would look like. She had somehow managed to resign herself to being the last of her kind.

With their new discovery, that wasn’t a problem anymore, and she couldn’t be more happy about it.

* * *

It was a long time before Merlin was able to pull himself together and Aithusa to calm down enough to sit on his shoulder again. He couldn’t help but feel what amounted to being punch-drunk from the heady presence of so many dragons in the same small space. He could tell Aithusa felt the same.

When he finally managed to find his voice again, he turned back to Aelwen. “…How…?” was all he managed to croak out.

She smiled at him is a politely content sort of way. “Mayor Ateano of Vartee took the advice of the seer those few hundred years ago. Knowing that the pursuit of dragon eggs would be one very likely to attract unwanted attention, he resolved to reveal the information only to a select few. He hand picked three people to hunt for eggs, under strict guidelines of conduct and having sworn an oath to protect any eggs they collected, and to operate in the most respectful way possible.”

She moved off to a finely carved cupboard detailed with scenes and figures of dragons to retrieve a few worn old books. “These records contain the history of each of the eggs you see before you, how they were collected and from where, and which dragons sired them.”

Pressing the books gently into his hands, she continued softly. “Everything you could ever want to know about them is contained within these books.”

He clutched the tomes to his chest as Aithusa hummed from his shoulder.

 _‘We can tell the infants about their history, who their parents were. We can learn so much about the dragons from this Aithusa!’_ he said excitedly in his mind.

 _‘I can have other dragons to play with!’_ was her thoughts on the matter. _‘You should hatch them all now!’_

As much as he found his heart in agreement with her enthusiasm, long years of hiding and the hard learned lessons of caution stayed his hand. _‘Maybe we should tell Kilgharrah about this before we do anything else,’_

_‘But why? Hatch them now and they can all be free too.’_

He scratched her under the chin as he thought about his reasons. _‘I want to hatch them just as much as you Aithusa,’_ he began. _‘But I also want to be careful. It’s so important to your race for these dragons to grow up healthy. I want to be there for them as they grow where I couldn’t for you. I had no idea that you couldn’t breath fire. I don’t want anything to happen to you, or any of the others because you were too young to defend yourselves and I wasn’t there to protect you.’_

 _‘I can protect myself,’_ she said petulantly, causing him to quirk a small smile.

_‘I know, but maybe it’s better to wait until your too big to fit on my shoulder before I hatch a new dragon.’_

He could tell she wasn’t really happy about his suggestion, but she also couldn’t find any rebuttal good enough, so she let it be.

_‘We’ll talk to Kilgharrah tonight and see what he thinks, alright? Then we’ll go from there.’_

He felt the mental equivalent of grumbling malcontentedly from her as he turned his attention once again to Aelwen. “How many people know of this place?” was the first thing he asked.

Well could he remember the true plan of Borden when they had gone hunting for Aithusa’s egg. He did not want to allow such a thing to happen again.

“I am the only person in Vartee who knows of the eggs. Knowledge of their existence has been passed down from mayor to mayor through the years, along with the responsibility of protecting them and choosing searchers who could be trusted. The last such searcher was a man I picked, and he died during the Purge, I’m sorry to say.”

“So no one else should know about this place?” he asked, wanting to be certain.

“No one else knows.”

He ran his hand experimentally along the carved stone wall of the chamber. He could feel the faint hum of living rock beneath his fingers, perhaps just a little stronger than usual. There was magic imbued into the stones around him.

“Is the secrecy of what this vault contains the only defence it has?”

“No. The key I gave to you is the only thing capable of opening the outer door. It is warded against magic, and it is not possible to transport oneself into the chamber or stairwell with the door closed. Once the door is sealed, the key is the only way in or out.”

He turned the old star-shaped key over in his fingers. The shape was one that would be very hard to duplicate unless you had a full mold to work from, and one with fine detail too. But keys could always be stolen. He had done so enough times himself to know just how easy it could be.

“Can anyone use this key, or is there some enchantment placed on it to stop would-be thieves from getting in here?”

Aelwen tilted her head, considering him. “There is no enchantment on the key itself, only the door and the chamber.”

He nodded, not surprised by the answer. After a few heartbeats, Aithusa spoke again. _‘Your worried someone might steal the key and break in here to do harm to the eggs.’_

_‘Yes.’_

_‘Wouldn’t it be better to hatch the eggs now then?’_ she asked coyly.

He poked her playfully in the side and she squirmed on his shoulder. _‘I don’t think it would be. When I went after your egg, there was someone else who also wanted it, only for their own selfish purposes.’_

 _‘That was Borden, wasn’t it?’_ she asked distastefully.

He wondered briefly at how they had been able to see each others memories. _‘Yes, Borden was his name. He wanted to sell your egg to the highest bidder, but a dragon egg would have been useless as anything other than an expensive keepsake. I’m the only one who could have hatched you, and I wouldn’t have done that just for you to be some cruel person’s slave. Baby dragons would be of much more interest to buyers than eggs they could do nothing with. That’s one of the reasons I’m hesitant.’_

 _‘I could hide the key,’_ she suggested when he fell silent. _‘I could fly with it somewhere no one else would be able to get to it.’_

_‘But then we run the risk of some other creature making off with it and not being able to get to the eggs at all.’_

“How has the key been kept safe all these year?” he asked aloud, wanting more information.

Aelwen had been standing patiently by watching them through their whole conversation, not able to actually hear a word. “Through secrecy for the most part. I’ve kept it locked inside an enchanted box only I can open.”

He continued to turn the strange key over in his hands, an idea forming in his mind. He held it up in front of himself, focussing in on it and blocking all else out. When he reached for his magic, the warm pulse from deep inside him, he noticed Aithusa slip into his mind. Without really being aware of what he was saying, he spoke the spell in a commanding voice. The sound reverberated through the chamber. Latter he would realise that somehow, it had not only been his voice that spoke, even if his was the only mouth forming the sound. He felt his eyes burn golden, and he knew the spell had worked. Now no one would be able to take the key away from him without his consent. No matter what they decided, the eggs would remain safe.

* * *

Arthur had all the knights scour the foothills of the White Mountains until twilight approached and any possible means of finding a hidden path left them.

He was distinctly nervous about Gwaine’s continued silence. He was now quite convinced that the rouge knew something he was keeping from the rest of them. _‘He’s been too calm all day, even if he has been shooting me dirty looks the entire time.’_

He had to wonder if maybe Gwaine was able to find something out back at the village the rest of them had missed. If he had somehow learned that Merlin was not in danger, that would surely have calmed him.

_‘It’s whatever reason he might have for not sharing that information with the rest of us that has me worried.’_

Weather that worry was for Merlin or himself, he tried not to think.

They wouldn’t leave these mountains without Merlin. _‘I won’t let us.’_

If a small part of him was already whispering that it was hopeless, he ignored it, shoved it so far to the back of his mind that it was all but silenced.

* * *

Night closed in over the mountains and the dark shapes of clouds drifted lazily across in front of the shining form of the moon. A dark shape flitted unnoticed through the darkest shadows.

At length, a black mass came upon a sheer wall of frowning stone. The faint hiss of whispered spells slithered through the night, accompanied by a dull flash of eerie gold. The hoarse voice grew evermore frustrated as nothing seemed to happen. An angry growl shook the night when flesh slapped against stone in the form of a now bruised fist. The mountain stood, unmoved by the display.

The moon glinted treacherously bright as the figure slunk away empty handed back the way it came.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Well, well, it seems there may be some trouble in paradise tonight, doesn’t it?  
> In other news, what do you guys think of the Merlin-Aithusa relationship in this chapter? It’s a bit more serious and a little different from the worrying or lighthearted distraction previously.  
> Let me know what you guys think, all comments always appreciated!  
> May the water warm you,


	37. Dragon Talk

Merlin sat waiting on the edge of his new bed for night while Aithusa wandered around aimlessly exploring the room. He had had a long conversation with Aelwen back at the vault before they finally left, sealing it shut. She had been decidedly interested in the spell he used to enchant the key, particularly since he made it up on the spot.

By the time they returned to her home, a messenger was waiting to show him to the accommodations that had been found for him. He was led, Aithusa on his shoulder, by a chatty youth covered in freckles to a quaint rooming house around the middle ring of the city. Once arrived, he met the rotund owner who sported a voluminous beard he clearly spent almost too much time grooming. The brisk man was pleasant enough – _‘Especially after I complimented his beard,’_ – but he seemed a man who was better with numbers than people, and would be apt to flounder about wildly during a crisis, no matter how minor.

“I don’t have the money to pay for board in a place like this,” he admitted when he arrived.

The landlord’s only response was to give him a hearty slap on the back and chuckle. “It’s fine lad, I’ve been made aware. And that room has been left vacant for the past several years. If your that worried about it, you can help with odd jobs around the place now and again. I’m sure it’ll work out well enough.”

He was happy to know that he wasn’t intruding or causing a drain on the man’s livelihood.

When the sun finally dropped below the peaks of the mountains and the sky turned from a pale yellow to a deep indigo, he gathered Aithusa and walked towards the outer farming ring of Vartee. It took him a while to find a secluded enough place where he could call Kilgharrah. He resorted to asking Aithusa to search from the sky.

 _‘Go a hundred paces to the south-east,’_ she called after just a few minutes in the air. _‘There’s an inlet in the mountains that should be large enough to hold Kilgharrah.’_

Sending her his thanks mentally, he followed her directions to find her sitting waiting for him. She glided over next to him as he threw his head back and roared his summons. At the sound, she shifted restlessly and rumbled deep in her chest, pressing up against his leg.

_‘Aithusa? What’re you doing?’_

_‘Your summons,’_ she said. _‘It ignites my fire, and makes me want to be closer to you.’_

He mulled that over for a moment. He had never really considered what if felt like for Kilgharrah when he summoned him. Now that he did, it seemed a major oversight on his part.

Aithusa hummed as she flew up and perched once again on his shoulder, her tail wrapping around his neck to keep herself steady. He found himself quickly growing used to her comforting weight and warmth.

They heard the resounding sound of massive, leathery wings flapping in the night, and Kilgharrah dropped out of the sky to land in front of them.

“Young warlock, it is good to see your well again,” he said without any preamble.

“I don’t think you’ve ever greeted me like that as long as I’ve known you,” he said. “Does that mean you were worried about me?”

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting from Kilgharrah, but it wasn’t the answer he got.

“Yes,” rumbled Kilgharrah while lowering his head to gaze at him with one great golden eye.

He blinked, taken off guard by the declaration. Emotions rose suddenly and he found himself rubbing at his eyes to chase away the sudden sting he felt there.

The moment was broken by Aithusa. _‘Nice to see you too Kilgharrah. What am I? A flying log or something?’_

There was no real heat in her words, only goading playfulness.

Kilgharrah drew up to his full height with a jaded, “Young dragon,”

He suddenly realized something he had glossed over until that moment. “How did you both know I was unwell?” he asked. “I didn’t even know until I was told,”

Aithusa hummed mournfully in his ear as she nuzzled him. _‘We heard you,’_ was her explanation.

_‘You heard me what? I don’t understand…’_

Kilgharrah lowered himself before he spoke. “When your connection to your king shattered, your soul cried out in agony from the loss. Because of our connection as dragon and lord, Aithusa and I were able to hear your cries of pain,” he explained in a low voice.

He gripped Aithusa tightly as he tried to breath through the sudden upwelling of panic in his heart. “…the healers told me my connection was damaged, not broken,” he managed through lips now numb.

Kilgharrah blinked at him, once, a look of immense surprise crossing his reptilian features.

 _‘Is it so surprising that my connection too…him…is only damaged and not broken? What have I not been told?’_ he thought privately.

_‘It is only damaged Kilgharrah. The healers are right. I can still sense it there in him, I think it’s just moved.’_

He only dimly registered Aithusa speaking.

Again, Kilgharrah blinked, slowly, deliberately. He studied Aithusa perched on his shoulder, leaning into him as he clutched at her. “Merlin, what can you remember from after that night?” he asked after a long moment of silence.

“Not much. I just remember it hurting, and…”

“Yes?”

“I’m not even sure it was real, or if I just imagined it,” he murmured. “It’s probably nothing.”

“I did not ask you what you were certain of, I asked you what you can remember.”

He looked up at Kilgharrah’s guarded eyes. Under his gaze, he hesitated. A look of sympathy crossed his face as he sighed. Quietly, coaxingly, he spoke. “Merlin, what do you remember?”

It was still several heartbeats before he answered. “…I remember drowning in pain…and being saved by a light. That was Aithusa…and I can remember…a frayed thread in a bleeding wound, and a gapping hole…I remember a choice between them…the next thing I knew, I woke up here.”

The night crickets were almost deafening as they chirped incessantly to one another.

“I have already learned from Aithusa that she experienced your memories, have you seen hers as well?”

“…Yes?”

“Why? What does it mean?”

 _‘It means it’s even easier for me to love you now,’_ said Aithusa before Kilgharrah could answer.

* * *

Kilgharrah watched silently as Merlin came to terms with Aithusa’s comment. He had never noticed before, but the young warlock always seemed so surprised whenever anyone mentioned truly caring for him. _‘It is as if he expects everyone to hold him at arms length, and is surprised whenever that is not the case,’_ he thought privately.

The more he watched the young warlock and dragon, the more he came to understand that whatever had unfolded in recent days, it was all for Merlin’s benefit. He seemed both happier and freer now than he had in quite some time. And Aithusa was almost shockingly close to him. _‘She had even taken up residence on his shoulder, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. I have never witnessed this strong a connection between a dragon and their lord before, despite all my long years.’_

It was a long while before the pair turned their attention once again to him.

He realized then it was an apt time to change the subject to less personal matters for Merlin. It would not due now to bring up the fact that he _should_ have died if his connection to his king became damaged _without_ actually breaking.

“What was your reason for calling me here tonight?”

Merlin’s face changed from contemplative to beaming in an instant. Aithusa chirped in sudden excitement.

 _‘Tell him Merlin, tell him! I want new playmates!’_ she said.

He raised an eyebrow at his younger kin’s behaviour. _‘ “Playmates”? What could she mean by that?’_ He tried very hard not to jump to any king of conclusions, but Merlin’s happy grin was making it difficult.

“You remember how we thought Aithusa would be the last dragon to ever hatch?” he asked, his eyes shinning.

He didn’t respond, but gazed intently at the giddy warlock and infant dragon before him.

“Aelwen, the leader of these people, she showed me…I couldn’t believe it when I first saw them,”

He took a deep breath before fixing his eyes above him on Kilgharrah. “There are eggs here Kilgharrah. _They have seven dragon eggs!_ ”

He froze in place, his heart swelling almost traitorously. Too old was he to take such news without confirmation. “Merlin,”

 _‘It’s true Kilgharrah!’_ interrupted Aithusa. _‘Now tell Merlin to hatch them all now so I can have other dragons to play with!’_

A myriad of different emotions played themselves out in his mind. _‘They have dragon eggs…the Varteesians have kept safe seven dragon eggs…’_

In truth, it wasn’t very surprising they had managed such a feat as it would have been to gather that many. As a people, they were obsessively careful and more than apt to be able to find and protect so many dragon eggs for a time when they would be needed. The peoples natural seclusion meant that nobody would ever have guessed what they were up to, and nobody could ever have stumbled onto the knowledge accidentally. It was just hard to wrap his head around, having spent so long believing his race to be all but finished.

 _‘Tell Merlin to hatch the dragons!’_ demanded Aithusa petulantly.

“Have they truly kept safe seven eggs?” he asked, just wanting to be certain.

“Yes,” said Merlin. “I’ve seen them. _We’ve_ seen them, felt them even. We can save your kind Kilgharrah.”

He had no words. And for a several thousand year old dragon, that was an impressive feat. But his long life also afforded him caution.

“However much I may wish it, you should not hatch all the eggs at once.”

Aithusa crumpled against Merlin, while he nodded solemnly. “I thought you’d say that. I found out earlier today that Aithusa can’t breath fire. Is it just because she’s too young, or is it for some other reason?”

“A dragon cannot breath fire until they have seen their twelfth moon cycle. She is too young, though she should be capable within the next few months.”

The sounds of the night invaded on them again as each individual pondered their own thoughts.

“It would be best to hatch each young dragon one at a time, and only after their elder has reached the level of maturity required to breath fire.”

Aithusa sagged down in disappointment and Merlin nodded his understanding. “I thought that too, I just wanted to be sure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: So, they told Kilgharrah about the eggs! And it looks like Aithusa’s going to have to wait a little while longer before she can have her new playmate.  
> Let me know what you guys think of this conversation, your thoughts are always appreciated!


	38. System Overload

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Hello again my dear readers! I’m sorry it’s been so long, but exams/Christmas-craft fairs/new-job got in the way and I’ve found little time to work on this. I originally thought this chapter was going to have some other scenes in it, but I decided it was perfectly fine just with the ones it’s already got.  
> Anyway, that’s enough of me rambling. Enjoy Happy Merlin!

Merlin woke to bright sunlight despite the mist that had rolled into the city during the night. Stretching and yawning widely, he moved towards the cupboard in his room. Upon arriving yesterday, he had found two more sets of clothes, as well as a sleeping tunic and trousers left for him. Another gift from Aelwen to make him more comfortable in the city. His old clothes were there too, but he simply stowed them away in the bottom of the cupboard. He wouldn’t be needing them again.

The new clothes were currently hung up and waiting for him. He dressed while the sun climbed higher, beginning to burn off the fog. His neckerchief was tied around his wrist once again. He wasn’t going to _not_ wear it, even if it felt wrong for it to be the same as always.

On the other side of the screen, he heard Aithusa begin to wake. _‘I’ll see you latter,’_ she said once he emerged. _‘I’m going out to hunt.’_

 _‘We could always find you something to eat here,’_ he told her.

He felt oddly bereft that she wanted to leave him again. He wouldn’t make her stay with him just for the sake of his loneliness though.

_‘I know, but it’s just not the same. Today I need something a little more fresh than that.’_

_‘Be careful,’_ he cautioned as he scratched the crown of her head. She hummed and nuzzled him before spreading her wings and flying out the open window.

 _‘It’s a good thing it’s always so warm here,’_ he thought as she left. _‘Keeping my window open all the time would have been a problem if they actually had winter.’_ Arzela had told him that Vartee didn’t have seasons, so he should be fine.

He made his way downstairs to find the house’s cook half-way through making breakfast. After fielding the initial panic attack, he was able to convince them to let him help. He also made certain to explain that they wouldn’t need to come in even earlier to have breakfast ready for him tomorrow.

Several hours latter he found himself walking through the wide, paved main street towards the towering form of the library, other people beginning to emerge bleary-eyed from their homes. A rising sense of excitement made him giddy as he came upon the large bronze doors, thrown wide in welcome. Upon entering he was hit with the intense, though not unpleasant smell of old leather and parchment. It permeated the air, making the whole place feel thick and heavy with secrets. _‘Although, they’re not secrets here are they? Anyone can come in to look for answers.’_

Inside, the library’s main floor reflected the layout of the city beyond. A large aisle filled with small reading desks led to an atrium at the centre of the building, hemmed in by towering shelves filled with more books than he had ever known existed, let alone seen in one place. He stared around in awe, both at the massive stores of knowledge and the finely carved details accenting the entire space. It was clear no expense had been spared on the place.

In the middle of the atrium stood three curved desks marking a circle strictly reserved for the librarians, lit from above by a huge oculus open to the heavens beyond. A couple people were already moving about, sorting though books on carts while others sat at the curved desks, reading absently. Not wanting to disturb the silence of the place, he stood awkwardly in front of a desk, waiting for someone to notice him. Thankfully, a librarian looked up just as he approached. “Good morning Sir, what might you be after today?” she asked with a cheery smile.

He floundered for a moment, struck by being referred to as “Sir”. _‘They don’t seem to have the same system of social hierarchy here. I remember Aelwen calling herself the “mayor”, not “Queen” when I talked to her.’_

“Um, I’m not quite sure exactly,” he stammered out.

The librarian tilted her head as she considered him. “What subject are you after then?”

“Magic.”

“Of course, but which _subject_? The entire north-west section is dedicated to magic.”

He tried not to gape at her, but he wasn’t doing a very good job of it. Unable to help himself, his eyes drifted to the stacks behind her and travelled up what had to be at least ten stories of shelves upon shelves packed full of books. It was only then that he noticed his magic tingling within his veins, as it always did when he was around other magic. He recalled vividly the first time Gaius had given him his spell book. His fingers tingled as he touched the pages, sensing the power inherent in the old-tongue, even written and inert as it was.

The librarian’s forehead creased as she watched him struggling to overcome his shock. “You must be the new arrival to the city,” she said as she stood and walked around the table to stand next to him.

He nodded, still unable to find the words in the face of everything. “Are there really that many books on magic here?” he asked, his voice shaking slightly.

She smiled sadly. “There are. Why don’t I give you a small tour and show you where everything is?”

He mumbled his thanks in a kind of daze when she gently tugged on his arm and led him off towards the north-west section. “The first two levels are dedicated to magical theory and history,” she began. “The third level breaks down magic lore into ancient, old and new-age magic.”

“What are those?”

“Different parts of history had different ways of understanding and using magic. Like anything, it has evolved over the centuries, opening up new fields of study while forgetting about a few of the older ones along the way. Most of the information on ancient magic is speculation or records of research people have undertaken, since people of the time didn’t write down their knowledge.”

“And the other levels?”

“Level four is about healing and magic, and five is for practical magic. Those two levels are where you’ll find most of our spell books. After that is level six, which contains books on elemental magic and the earth-based magic taught by Prana House, then seven is all about magical creatures and places, eight is combat and defensive magic, and lastly is nine, which deals with restricted forms of magic.”

“…So only certain people are allowed on level nine?”

“Yes and no. You can’t wonder the stacks yourself, but everyone is still allowed to request books from there. You sign in and out with the name of the books or the subjects you want to research, and the librarian on duty will retrieve the books for you. And you’re not allowed to take any books off level nine.”

“If it’s restricted forms of magic, why do you have that section open at all?” he wondered aloud.

His guide stopped as they turned to face him. “Our city is built on the idea of knowledge being accessible to everyone. Knowledge isn’t something you should keep hidden. It often does you more harm than good to try. You cannot fight what you do not understand, after all, so it remains open. And not everything on level nine is dark magic. The power over life and death is covered in that section, for example. That’s not _dark_ magic, but it is no doubt _dangerous_ magic that can be used to serve dark purposes.”

He mulled that over while she led him around the various levels, pointing out where certain topics and study spaces were located, hidden between the shelves.

Whenever he remembered something about magic he wanted to study further, he asked about it and was led to the sections he could find his answers. _‘I’ll have to come back here after and read as much as I can about dragons,’_ he thought as they continued their little tour. _‘I want to know if there is anything else about them like Aithusa’s current inability to breathe fire that I should know.’_

* * *

Kilgharrah’s wings skimmed through the clouds as he glided over the landscape following the party of Amaten men he had taken to tracking. Admittedly, it was more the prey they hunted he was interested in then the men themselves.

This high up, he would be little more than a moving speck in the sky to them. Far enough away that he would not bee seen, and his presence could not be sensed.

Since Aithusa had posed her enlightening question, he had been thinking. _‘I know it is not my place to guide the creation of Albion, but that doesn’t have to mean that I must sit back and do nothing for it.’_

He had decided to try and play a more active role, for Merlin’s sake. The trick was to do so in such a way as to not draw undo attention to himself.

It was that little conundrum which led him to his current vigil. He had decided to take the place of watchman, since Merlin would likely be preoccupied in Vartee for some time.

It took all of his self restraint not to dive and spew fire at the unsuspecting people below him. The hunting party was in truth little better than the prey they so foolishly sought. Some men, he knew, did not play the game of right and wrong as anything more than pawns. It was, for some strange reason, a part of the humans nature to obey authority. Rare was the person that would actively challenge it. Even rarer was the person who would challenge the entire group. _‘For not all men are created equal. Some are meant to lead, while others are meant to follow.’_ There were endless variations of those two states of being, but everyone boiled down to one or the other.

He couldn’t help but contemplate what it was about power that blinded so many humans while he watched the group he had been following be slaughtered by their prey.


	39. Prana House

Merlin had his nose buried in a book about dragon anatomy and their growth cycle when he heard someone walking down one of the larger aisles. “For anyone in this section, it’s almost fifth bell. Just to let you know!” What had to be the librarian who spoke moved off, probably to deliver their message to the dozens of other silent sections.

He almost ignored the warning completely, so engrossed was he in his book. But it tickled a memory in the back of his mind. _‘Wonderful! I’ll leave you to get acquainted with the city today, but I’ll expect to see you at fifth bell tomorrow in Prana House…’_

He sprang up as if stung, hastily marking his page in his book and shoving the others onto the re-shelving rack before sprinting off for the stairs. In his excitement about the massive stores of magical knowledge he now had access to, he had completely forgotten about his promise to study magic with Eldert at Prana House.

He flew down the tight spirals of the wrought iron stairs to the main floor, then took off through the stacks at a run. It was a few stacks latter that his haste caused him to barrel headlong into an elderly librarian carrying a teetering pile of books. He managed to save her from toppling over, but the books she was carrying, as well as his own, fell to the floor.

“What do you think your doing? Charging through the stacks like a maniac!” snapped the brisk librarian as he scrambled to retrieve the fallen books, apologizing profusely.

“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying enough attention to where I was going. Did I hurt you?” he asked hesitantly as he handed her the books. She paid him no mind as she snatched them back, going over the spines of each one to check for any damage.

“Your lucky none of these were damaged,” she said, producing a wooden ruler from somewhere and brandishing it in his face. “ _Do not_ let me catch to charging through the stacks again. I’m letting you off the hook this time, but if I catch you again, I won’t be so lenient.” She waved the ruler in front of his face some more, making plain her threat of punishment if he was caught again.

He mumbled another apology as he bent to retrieve his own book and turned, walking away as quickly as he could without actually running. He stopped off at the reception desk in the atrium to hand over his book, asking them to hold it for him until he came back latter today to pick it up. It wasn’t until he reached the main doors that he risked sprinting off again.

 _‘It’s a good thing I asked for directions to Prana House this morning before I left the rooming house,’_ he thought as he dashed around the people milling around the streets.

He turned down a deserted side street, allowing himself to run off at full tilt, hoping not to be late for his first ever true magic lesson. As he turned another corner, he heard a concerned squawk from above him, and glanced up to see Aithusa trailing him through the air.

 _‘What’s wrong?’_ she asked while he continued running. _‘Why are you in such a hurry?’_

_‘I’m going to be late to meet Eldert and learn magic. I lost track of time at the library.’_

_‘You’ve never really minded being late for things before…’_

_‘Yes, well, I was never in that much of a hurry to have goblets thrown at my head then, was I?’_ He felt her slight amusement while she continued to follow him.

With his headlong sprint, he was able to make it to Prana House in the outer ring of the city just as the fifth bell rang. He skidded to a halt and leaned against the building, gasping for breath while trying to massage out the burning stitch in his side. Aithusa landed next to him and nuzzled his leg as he recovered.

The doors of the House opened and people filled out in groups of twos and threes, chatting animatedly between themselves. As they passed, many noticed Aithusa at his side and pointed her out to their companions. The volume of chatter dropped off a little, making the curious whispers more noticeable as people passed, trying not to be too obvious while they ogled him being nuzzled affectionately by a dragon. Once he got his breath back, Aithusa reclaimed her spot on his shoulder.

 _‘Did you have a good hunt?’_ he asked, trying to ignore the stairs he was now getting. He hated being the centre of attention. It wasn’t a safe place to be.

 _‘I did,’_ said Aithusa. _‘But I had to go pretty far to find any prey with how cold the surrounding mountains are.’_

As the crowds leaving Prana House lessened, he slipped through the doors into the entrance hall, trying desperately to ignore the people around him. The building was far less sumptuous than the library had been, being built of large slabs of blue-gray stone rather than white. There were still the odd finely carved details here and there, but they numbered much fewer and were always a part of a feature which was otherwise completely practical. Ahead of him were large barn doors, with a small open doorway to the side allowing the smell of horses to spill out. He could hear the odd bray and whinny, as well as the calls of other barn animals. To his left was another hall filled with the sounds of hawks, eagles, and rustling feathers. He spotted a few cats sulking around, looking despondently at the large birds as if whishing they were smaller so they could catch themselves a snack.

The last few stragglers were coming from the much smaller hallway to his right.

“Merlin! Hello again, and welcome to Prana House.”

He turned to see Eldert approach from the barn, the odd bit of straw stuck in his hair. He tried valiantly to hold back a grin at the sight. Aithusa let out a funny chirping hum that he knew was meant to cover her laughter, though he doubted Eldert would recognize it for what it was.

“Hello to you too,” said Eldert to Aithusa before turning back to him. “I’m glad you could make it.”

“I almost didn’t,” he managed to say with a straight face.

Eldert raised a curious eyebrow while they shook hands. “Any why might that be?”

He smiled a little ruefully at his own forgetfulness. “I lost track of time in the library. If someone hadn’t have come by and mentioned the hour, I would have completely forgotten to come. As it was, I had to run the whole way here to make it on time.”

Eldert let out a loud bark of laughter. “You ran all the way here from the library!? You’ve certainly got more stamina than me kid, if I’d have tried that I’d be nothing more than an exhausted puddle on the floor.”

“I did have a nasty stitch in my side by the time I got here,” he pointed out graciously.

Eldert chuckled again. “I have no doubt.” He looked ready to throw his arm around his shoulders, but glanced at Aithusa and seemed to think better of it. “For future reference, time slips past most people in the library, and the clerks are not the most observant about the hour either. It’s best not to go if you have somewhere else to be latter. Oh, and don’t fret too much about being late. Most people around here have a very lose sense of time. You’ll fit right in, I assure you, by being a little late.”

Eldert motioned for him to follow and led him off down the hall the crowds had just left.

“So what am I actually going to be doing today?” he asked as they walked.

“Today I think you’d be best served by us figuring out what you already know and what areas you’ll need the most help in,” explained Eldert as he led them into what looked like a very messy office filled with books, random pieces of horse tack, falconry tools, and other paraphernalia for training animals. He moved a stack of horseshoes from a chair and sat while Eldert rummaged through the detritus looking for something.

“Who were the people leaving as I got here?” he asked after several minutes of watching.

Eldert stopped his continuous grumbles about never being able to find what he was looking for to answer him. “Those were the other members of Prana House. At least the ones still in training. Well, the ones still in classes who haven’t yet reached apprenticeship status.”

“So your school offers classes and apprenticeships for learning magic?” he asked as Aithusa moved to his lap.

Eldert nodded before letting out a triumphant exclamation, having finally found what he was looking for. He grabbed a book sitting squished beneath a teetering pile of office detritus and yanked it out. It took a moment for the pile to release it’s hold, but then it flew out, almost causing Eldert to topple over backwards and making the pile slip sideways and spill everywhere. He stood looking forlornly at the mess for a moment before giving a defeated sigh and turning his back on it.

 _‘He doesn’t seem very organized, does he?’_ commented Aithusa while Eldert cleared himself a seat.

He tried really hard not to snort or burst out laughing. _‘No, he doesn’t,’_

“My school holds classes for those just learning or trying to hone their skills in the earth-based magic we study. Apprenticeships are for people who have mastered the basics and want to learn how to apply their skills practically. You become a full-fledged member of Prana House when whomever your apprenticing with decides your ready.”

“Why didn’t you have me start in the classes if they’re already for people just learning magic?”

“I didn’t have you do that because they are designed for people working from the ground up. From what I saw at the eyrie yesterday, you have already figured out at least some earth-magic for yourself, even if you never realized that was what you were doing. I thought you’d be better served if we were to first figure out what you can already do, and _then_ decide where to put you in the school.”

So they worked for the rest of the day through all of the concepts and lessons that were taught at the school. He found that while he never _knew_ any of it before, he did not have any trouble understanding once it was explained. What the day consisted of more than anything was filling in the gaps and sharpening his understanding of _how_ and _why_ certain things worked, rather than just accepting it one way or the other. Eldert sometimes used his book to introduce or explain certain topics, other times he would pose questions about how he would react in a given scenarios. He explained about how it was easy for him to manage animals that others found too rowdy, and how he was always able to find even the rarest herbs whenever Giaus sent him out collecting. He just always knew where to look for them.

“I think we could safely put you in an apprenticeship today,” said Eldert happily once the sun had started to sink back towards the mountains.

He felt a spike of self-doubt shoot through him for a moment. Yes, he had had no trouble understanding anything they went over that day, but he didn’t believe he was really as good as Eldert seemed to believe he was. “Do you…maybe have an advanced level class that I can join first?” he asked hesitantly.

Eldert scrutinized him with intense eyes while Aithusa nuzzled his hand to get his attention. _‘What are you so afraid of? You haven’t had any trouble with the magic today,’_ she prodded. He didn’t bother to give her an answer.

“I do not believe you need take any classes,” said Eldert carefully. “But if you really don’t feel able, we have a more advanced class tomorrow you could take part in. It starts at fourth bell and runs every other day.”

“Thank you. I think I’ll do that then.”

They shook hands and he made to leave, Aithusa returning again to his shoulder. Eldert inclined his head a little sadly at him. “Then it’ll be up to the professor to decide what to do with you.”

He said goodbye and Aithusa chirped in farewell.

He walked in relative silence back towards the rooming house. _‘Merlin?’_ prodded Aithusa into the silence.

_‘Yeah,’_

_‘Why are you doubting yourself so much?’_

Once again he did not offer her any answer, though he couldn’t stop his thoughts and feelings from flowing through their connection to her.

_‘You know you’ve always been able to do what you’ve needed to, even when you didn’t fully understand what you were doing,’_

He hugged her to himself as he walked. It was the only response he could give, especially when he disagreed. She knew his real thoughts, he was sure, but didn’t press him any further on the matter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Magic School! I like Prana House being all disorganized and Eldert just straight up giving up on it and leaving it be.  
> So what do you guys think of the stuff going on here? Merlin’s really excited about learning magic, but it doesn’t look like he’s very confident about his abilities.  
> Let me know what you think! And thanks to everyone who reads and/or leaves a review.  
> May the water warm you.


	40. Midnight Comes Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Hello my dear readers, New Perspective this chapter! Let me know what you guys think of the new viewpoint.  
> I think this’ll be the last set of scenes before I start poking the bear that is distraught-Arthur, but we’ll see.  
> I’ve got a little nugget of mystery in here, which I hope you guys will enjoy. Anyways, I’ll stop rambling and let you guys read, and send me your comments when your done! Always greatly appreciated!

Aithusa lay at the foot of Merlin’s bed watching him read from his dusty book about dragons. After leaving Prana House, she watched him more closely than ever. To anyone else, he would look his normal cheery self, but she was not fooled. She could sense how he really felt.

_‘Why he feels so inadequate when he’s always managed to keep his friends safe, I don’t know.’_

Although, that wasn’t completely true. She did know. She had been there with him, in a way. Experiencing his memories had revealed to her a lot about the man who was her dragon lord. _‘I don’t call him that any more, because I know it would only make him uncomfortable.’_ There may have been a time when he had wanted to be recognized for the things he did, but that was long gone. Tempered by the wisdom of age and the realization that recognition was much less important to him than keeping his friends safe from harm. He was best able to do that when nobody knew who he was, when everyone underestimated him.

But working in the shadows had it’s consequences. It meant that you couldn’t ask for help, more often than not. It meant that all his actions were utterly and completely his own. She knew he blamed himself for the ones he could not save. _‘His “failures”, as I know he calls them.’_ She didn’t know how to make him believe otherwise. It didn’t help that he was good at shielding her from his emotions when upset.

 _‘I understand how he really feels so much better when he’s not doubting himself.’_ It seemed to be the only time he was truly separate from her anymore, and she did not like it.

* * *

A black shape flitted through the shadows making it’s way to a sheltered inlet some way from the city. The cloaked figure walked out purposefully to the centre of the open space and knelt down on the ground. Calloused fingers brushed almost hesitantly over deep gouges in the stone. Chips of ragged rock snagged on flesh, tugging incessantly before letting go, leaving scratches in their wake not deep enough to bleed.

The marks were no doubt left by the claws of a massive beast, one which had dug into the rock before kicking off.

A satisfied smile glinted from the depths of the black hood as the figure made it’s way back through the night.

* * *

Percival sat prodding the fire absentmindedly with a spare stick for his shift on watch. Around him, it was true midnight. The creatures of the day had settled into the rhythm of sleep, and the night critters had quieted down from the excitement of their awakening. It was the worst shift if you wanted to get any actual sleep, but it was the best one for thinking.

Five days ago, Arthur was attacked by a vengeful sorcerer and was saved by Merlin, who subsequently disappeared. The whole time they had been out searching, he had been thinking, and watching.

Initially he had been furious about Merlin’s disappearance because he _knew_ , with absolute certainty, that he would not have run off of his own volition. Not unless there was something he had to do elsewhere in order to protect one of them, most likely Arthur. Yes, he had disappeared in the past, but he knew that wherever Merlin went, he had good reasons for it. He was much more dependable than Arthur usually gave him credit for.

But this time felt different. For starters, Arthur had reacted immediately by enlisting their help to look for him. Every other time Merlin had disappeared, Arthur had bumbled around in frustrated anger searching for his wayward manservant. This time, he immediately noticed the younger man’s disappearance and acted to rectify it.

In some ways, Arthur was behaving the same now as he had that one terrible time they lost Merlin after a bandit attack at the entrance to the Valley of the Fallen Kings. But this was different. This time, Arthur felt guilty enough to head out himself to search immediately.

That first time they had lost Merlin, it had really been _Arthur_ who had lost him. The king had blamed himself, but it had really been the rockfall that was to blame. Arthur would not have left Merlin if that hadn’t have happened. He couldn’t have done anything. But now it was like Arthur _knew_ it was all his fault, knew he had nothing and no one else to blame. The king was more frantic than he had ever seen him. Somehow, all this _was_ his fault. But someone else had still taken Merlin. There was nothing in all the world that would convince him Merlin had left on his own, without telling anyone where he was going.

It always took a couple days for Gaius to really get worried. This time, it hadn’t.

The next strange thing to consider was Gwaine. He was more protective of Merlin than anyone else, even Arthur, and while the first couple days he had been properly worried, he wasn’t any more. Gwaine was also the one who knew the most about the people they were looking for, whom they believed had kidnapped Merlin. And they _had_ kidnapped him. There was no other explanation.

But Gwaine wasn’t worried about it. So he wasn’t in danger, even by proximity, because if he was, Gwaine would be ragging around like a rabid dog looking for him. He was however angry with Arthur. So again, Merlin’s disappearance boiled down to being the fault of the King.

He had no idea what to think. For the first time since sitting down at a round table with a group of people he had barely even met and pledging his allegiance to a dethroned prince, he felt like everyone was keeping secrets from him. _‘Merlin always kept secrets, but he had been the only one. And even so, I still knew I could trust him. Lancelot had made that much clear to me.’_

A soft breeze rustled the leaves over his head as he stared unseeing into the flames. It washed over his skin soothingly, almost a sigh of contentment.

No, he did not know what was going to happen. He just knew that it was going to change everything, and he wasn’t sure they were prepared for what came next.


	41. Not Happy

To say that Arthur was “not happy” would be a gross understatement of the facts. He was worried, frustrated, terrified, angry, guilt-ridden, and he was pretty sure that Gwaine had figured out what was really going on and was only waiting for the perfect opportunity to kill him. All that meant he was decidedly not interested when the knights confronted him about returning to Camelot that morning once they broke camp.

_‘I would never admit this out loud, but Merlin’s morning stew was always so much better than that watery sludge Elyan was responsible for.’_

He didn’t agree with Leon and Elyan that they should return to Camelot and regroup, despite the many valid points they brought up. “We all know that Gwen is more than capable of keeping the kingdom running Sire,” stated Leon cautiously. “But you know better than anyone how troublesome the council can be sometimes with their strict adherence to tradition, and they do not all respect the Queen’s authority as much as they should.”

“And the people are still recovering from Morgana’s recent takeover,” added Elyan. “They need the support of their king, now more than ever.”

He knew they were right, and he hated it. _‘The people wouldn’t even have a king if it wasn’t for the man we’re looking for. Even if I forget about everything that must have happened without my knowledge, both times Morgana seized Camelot, it was Merlin who managed to get me to pull myself together and make a stand.’_ Far apart from that though, was the knowledge that if things were reversed, Merlin would not have given up looking for him, no matter the reason.

The argument continued for some time, nobody willing to give up any ground. It only ended when Percival put in his two cents. “Gaius may know more by now.”

The three of them stopped arguing to take in what he had said. Gwaine raised a curious eyebrow from his spot lounging against a tree, seeming amused by the proceedings. “Perc is right,” he ventured after a moment. “We might be better served if we head back to Camelot. We’re not going to find anything more out here.”

“Perhaps you’ve forgotten, but Merlin’s still missing. A fact you don’t seem overly concerned about. Even if _you_ can’t stay sober long enough to remember what we’re out here for, the rest of us can. Although, I don’t know how I expected any different when you spend all your time at the bottom of a tankard. How long has it been since you had a sip, hmm?” he jabbed.

He knew he shouldn’t have said it. He was fed up. It was a bad idea to antagonize Gwaine now of all times, but he didn’t care. He was so confused and frustrated, at Merlin, at himself, and at that stupid sorcerer for starting the whole thing. And the person he usually used to vent wasn’t there.

 _‘…Perhaps I was not so alone in exploiting him for my own benefits…’_ The phrase floated across his mind. That, and the memory of _who_ had said it, made him shut his mouth in jilted shame.

The other knights all made sounds of surprise at his harsh words. Gwaine just stood, considering him as an adult would a misbehaving child. “I am concerned,” he stated with much more dignity than his griping king. “But the Varteesians _have never been dangerous_. And even if they were, everyone _always_ underestimates Merlin. No one ever suspects him of being who he really is.” He glared pointedly at Arthur, causing him to avert his eyes. He managed to hold himself back from shifting uncomfortably, but only just.

 _‘So Gwaine does know, but he’s keeping silent about it.’_ He was also more shrewd than he gave him credit for. His statement was vague enough that unless you already knew what he was _really_ talking about, you’d never guess.

Leon was gazing with calculating eyes at Gwaine. “Why are you suddenly so certain that Merlin’s not in any danger from these people?” he asked.

“Because it wouldn’t make any sense for them to hurt him. Nobody knows where they come from. If they were that serious about magic, they’d just stay holed up there rather than getting tangled up in assassinations in another kingdom,” said Gwaine.

Eventually they set off on-route to Camelot leaving him feeling rather like they were dragging him back, kicking and screaming the whole way. So no, Arthur was definitely more than just “ _not happy_ ”.

* * *

Gwaine tilted his head and gazed disapprovingly at Arthur with his harsh words. _‘I may be a drunkard, but at least_ I _know who my real friends are, and how to treat them properly.’_

He could’ve jabbed back at the moping king, but he didn’t. He knew that if Merlin were there, he would have called them _both_ prats for arguing like children when there was no real reason for it.

 _‘If Merlin had had the time, I know he would’ve asked me to protect Arthur, no matter what had happened between them.’_ He was just that loyal and selfless.

Instead of getting angry and starting a fight, he did what his friend would have; stuck with the facts he could. “I’m not concerned,” he said, drawing himself up with his chin held high. “The Varteesians _have never been dangerous_. And even if they were, everyone _always_ underestimates Merlin. No one ever suspects him of being who he really is.”

He gazed pointedly at Arthur, who looked away in shame. They both knew what he was really talking about. He was gratified when Arthur seemed unable to come up with a response, though the king was no less sulky for it.

Despite continuing to gripe and bicker about it, Arthur eventually agreed to head back. He ignored the man-child leading their group thereafter, having said his piece for now. _‘We’ll have a_ real _chat when I manage to get him alone.’_ He rather looked forward to that. It would mean finally being able to rub Arthur’s face in how terrible he could sometimes be to Merlin, when he was the best of them all. _‘And a far better man that Princess could ever be.’_

He instead spent the rest of the day observing the others. Percival’s silences seemed unusually loaded. Leon and Elyan spoke quietly to one another, both trying to suss out what was going on in their usually tight-knit group. _‘It’s going to be an interesting few days,’_ he mused as they trudged sedately back along the road.

* * *

Percival could only assume it was by mutual consent that Arthur ended up at the front of their party, and Gwaine at the back.

He was quite surprised by Arthur’s jab that morning against Gwaine. The insinuation that Gwaine couldn’t be bothered to stay sober long enough to remember what they were supposed to be doing was ridiculous, especially when Gwaine was the most protective of Merlin out of all of them.

He also couldn’t fathom Gwaine’s response to the accusation. He would’ve expected the man to lash out, but that wasn’t what happened. Instead, Gwaine responded to Arthur with sharp coldness. He acted as if Arthur’s actions proved to him beyond a shadow of a doubt that the king was beneath his notice.

He puzzled over Gwaine’s words. They seemed simple enough at first glance, but he believed there was a much deeper layer there, hidden in plain sight. _‘Just like Merlin himself.’_ Who was Merlin? What was Gwaine referring to?

He couldn’t help but notice that their tight-knit group was falling apart at the seams. Everyone kept shooting fruitive glances at everyone else. Each man seemed to be wondering what the others knew, and why they weren’t speaking out about it. He wondered absently at the true role of leadership as they rode into the town where they had ultimately lost the trail of their friend once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Alrighty people, last chapter before I let Gwaine have a little fun snapping at Arthur. I’ve restarted school by this point after Christmas break, and I’ve got three classes instead of just two now, so we’ll see how posting goes.  
> Let me know what you guys think! And expect the Arthur-Gwaine confrontation to come soon.  
> May the water warm you,


	42. The Last Wall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: DISCLAIMER – This chapter contains quotes from the show. I DO NOT OWN MERLIN, ALL RIGHTS TO BBC.  
> That said, here’s the long awaited unleashed Gwiane! Enjoy!

Night found Arthur once again sneaking out of an inn and darting off for the black mass of trees. The idea had come to him as they rode into the town that evening. He headed for the clearing where he met the Great Dragon. He wasn’t quite sure why – it was _very_ unlikely the beast would be sitting there waiting for him. But it was the only plan he had at the moment.

So consumed was he by his thoughts that he didn’t notice the stealthy form following him through the brush. There were other things too he might have noticed if he had been paying more attention. In the silver light of the moon the soft pale colours of new growth glinted from the tips of branches and leaves. But he didn’t notice any of it.

A light breeze rustled the leaves as he stepped out into the clearing, glancing around. He pulled out his sword, feeling at least a little better having it in his hand.

_‘Well this was stupid. There’s nothing here but a little torn grass…’_

The thought stopped him in his tracks. _‘…torn up grass, gouges in the soil…’_

He moved forward in a daze and knelt, brushing his fingers against the jagged edges of torn soil. The marks looked familiar, _very_ familiar. The only difference from the last time he had seen marks like these was how much larger they were. _‘…it was not until he received his inheritance…I was forced to stop…’_ Oh, oh god. _‘Dragon tracks…there were dragon tracks that first day…’_ There was another one. A much smaller one – _‘younger’_ – granted, but still. There were two dragons left in the world.

He stood up and backed away as flashes of memory spun themselves through his mind. _‘…nothing could survive under all that…’_ whispered Leon’s voice. He heard again the sound of crashing stone in the background. And Merlin, kneeling next to his bag on the ground, the only one who had seen Borden fail in his bid for the egg – .

“Nice place for a midnight stroll, isn’t it?”

He wheeled around with his sword at the ready, only to freeze upon seeing who his company was.

* * *

For once in his life, Gwaine abstained from the tavern that night. And, actually, it was a good job he had too. He wouldn't have seen the Princess sneak off if he had immersed himself in the mead and comradery of the tavern.

He quickly threw on his boots and grabbed his sword before slipping out to trail the king. _‘Where does he think he’s going?’_ Arthur seemed to know, even if he seemed distracted.

The last lone cloud drifted out of the way of the shinning moon. In the silver light, he noticed signs of new growth on the tips of a few scattered branches. The deeper he followed Arthur into the forest, the more numerous those signs grew. Glancing left and right, he attempted to make sense of the strange sight. _‘Harvest season is almost upon us. There should not be this much new growth.’_ It was the type of thing you’d expect in spring, not fall.

Shaking himself, he plunged off after the Princess again. At the edge of a clearing he stopped. He watched with curiosity as Arthur glanced around uncertainly and drew his sword. _‘What_ did _he come all the way out here for?’_

He watched as Arthur knelt next to a long furrow in the ground and brushed his fingers against it.

Now convinced that Arthur wasn’t waiting for someone or something, he stepped out of cover. “Nice place for a midnight stroll, isn’t it?” he asked in a loud voice with rakish cheer. He was pleased when Arthur spun around, sword in hand, only to freeze upon seeing him. “I can’t help but wonder why you decided to come out here all by your lonesome though…”

“Gwaine,”

The cautious, almost pleading tone in Arthur’s voice was the last straw, and he finally snapped. He dropped his rakish grin into an angry sneer, his body tensing. He didn’t move his hand to the handle of his own sword though. He had something much better to cut with. “Yes Arthur _Pendragon_ , that’s my name.”

* * *

Arthur bristled at Gwaine’s sneering use of his family name. He knew exactly what the man was implying. Narrowing his eyes and gripping the handle of his blade a little tighter he answered. “If you’ve got something to say, _Sir_ Gwaine, why don’t you?”

He saw Gwaine’s eyes flick down to the sword in his hand before snapping back up to match his glare. “Oh, I’ve got _plenty_ of things to say, _your highness._ But I’d rather know one thing first; what happened between you, Merlin, and that assassin? Oh, and one more thing; _just what did you do about it_?”

His heart clenched painfully and the bile rise in his throat. _‘…I never want to see you EVER again, sorcerer!’_

“I don’t need to explain my treatment of my manservant to _you_ Gwaine!” he snapped before he had a chance to think. The moment the words left his mouth though, he cursed the damn thing over and over.

Gwaine looked murderous as he prowled closer. “Who ever said anything about how you treat Merlin Princess?” he asked in a deadly whisper.

Every colourful curse he could imagine chased it’s way around inside his head. He couldn’t help but feel like after everything, he had still learned nothing at all.

“So what exactly are you insinuating then?” he asked through gritted teeth.

Gwaine prowled a few steps closer, his eyes flashing. “What _should_ I be accusing you of?”

“Nothing happened,”

“ _Something_ happened,” said Gwaine. “The only question I have is what?”

“Nothing happened. Merlin managed to save me and kill the assassin.”

“That must’ve been quite the show. A skinny guy like Merlin who can’t wield a blade to save his life, and he still manages to kill an _assassin_ ,” said Gwaine. His hand moved almost lazily to the hilt of his sword. “Especially when that assassin had _magic_.”

He felt himself tense up, ready for whatever was going to happen. He knew he wouldn’t be able to stop this from escalating, it was already too far gone for that. And he couldn’t marshal his thoughts well enough to do so anyway. “…he…didn’t use magic on Merlin..” It was the best he could come up with.

“Really? You expect me to believe that this guy was stupid enough to just _leave Merlin be_ as he tried to kill you? Even _you_ can’t be that stupid Princess.”

He couldn’t help it as his anger spiked. “Watch how you speak to me, Sir Gwaine. I am still your King,” he snapped.

Gwaine’s eyes glinted and the last wall holding him back finally broke. Before he knew what was happening, there was a ring of steel. The clearing filled with a musical, echoing clang as he blocked Gwaine’s attack.

“Is that what you told _him_ when you turned on him?” demanded Gwaine over their locked blades.

The rouge shoved him with all his might. Their blades screeching as they ground against each other. In an instant he spun away from the furious knight, trying to stay out of range. _‘I don’t want to do this…Merlin wouldn’t want for us to fight like this.’_

“I’ll admit that I was angry when I found out,” he said, trying to buy for time. He couldn’t see any way out of the situation, and that worried him. Part of him was ragging at Gwaine’s actions. The other part was sneering at him, telling him that he deserved this, and so much more. “But I did not harm him. He left – ”

“You expect me to believe that?” Gwaine snarled as they traded more blows. He was trying to make him fight, but he kept disengaging as quickly as he could and moving back out of range. “You expect me to believe that he _up and left_ right after you found out?”

He wanted to say _‘yes, I do’_ , but he knew it wasn’t true. They _both_ knew it wasn’t as easy as that.

Gwaine hacked at him remorselessly. “I swear to you that I did not hurt him,” he said around his laboured breathing as he fended off the attack.

The rouge only growled menacingly before finally getting one over on him. His blade clashed with his sword hand in a dramatic flourish, and he knew he was had. It was Gwaine’s signature move, one he had never been able to properly block.

Gwiane grabbed his liberated sword before elbowing him in the throat. He choked on the sudden lack of air and crashed to the ground. Gwaine stood over him, his own gleaming blade pointed at his chest.

“That’s where your wrong Princess. You _did_ hurt him, because you turned on him. Even though you _know_ that _he_ would never turn on _you_.”

A lump formed in his throat, cutting off any reply he might have given. He could only gaze up into Gwaine’s dark, flashing eyes in horror. There was nothing to say, nothing he could defend. Because he was right.

Without warning Gwaine swung his stollen blade into the air and stabbed it into the ground next to his face. He would be lying if he said he did not flinch.

“I know what that blade is,” said Gwaine, voice cold as shards of ice. “I heard the stories. He’s the one that led you to it, the one who made you believe in yourself again.” He paused for breath, a look of absolute disgust crossing his face. “You didn’t deserve it. You don’t deserve _him_ , and you certainly don’t deserve his blade.”

With that, Gwaine turned on his heel and marched out of the clearing, never once turning to glance back. He stayed for hours, staring at the gleaming blade. He felt fate laughing as it mocked him, the runes for “cast me away” glinting dully at him in the moonlight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: O_o  
> What did I just do?


	43. Know You Shouldn't

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Hey guys, sorry this one took so long. It took me a while to get back on track after falling ill recently(ish). It didn’t really help that I wasn’t entirely sure where to go with this chapter, but I like where I ended up, so here’s hoping you guys do too.  
> Anyways, enjoy! Send me your thoughts!

Gwaine knew he shouldn’t be taking any pleasure in the fact that Arthur looked like he was sporting two black eyes the next morning, but he did. The dark bruising on the underside of Arthur’s chin and his haunted eyes gave him a savage sense of satisfaction. He was barely able to fight the manic sneer he felt coming on when he overheard Elyan venture to ask Arthur what had happened.

“I tripped and fell this morning. It’s nothing,” said Arthur evasively.

Elyan looked at him strangely before deciding better than to argue, eyeing Arthur’s stiff posture. _‘Your not Merlin Princess,’_ he thought as they set off. _‘That excuse doesn’t work for you.’_

* * *

The next morning Percival was given yet another reason to wonder what was really going on. Arthur appeared looking tousle-haired, punch-drunk and horribly sleep deprived. He was also handling his sword strangely. He noticed Gwaine’s fierce glances toward the king, and thought he knew where the bruising on Arthur’s chin had come from at least.

But if Gwaine had been angry enough to actually _strike_ Arthur, he was surprised that he had done so out of their sight. He was even more surprised when neither of them seemed very forthcoming about their fight.

He really did not believe Arthur when he told Elyan that he was sporting a nasty bruise because he “tripped and fell” that morning. But he didn’t say anything. He figured it would all have to come out eventually, so he stayed silent.

* * *

When Merlin walked out of Prana House the next day, he was glad of his decision to forego jumping straight into an apprenticeship with Eldert. Yesterday had been more about sounding out his capabilities rather than actually learning magic, today had been completely different.

During the class, he realised that the magic taught in Prana House was far from difficult for him. In fact, he had been unconsciously using it in some form for his whole life. But he hadn’t known what exactly it was he was doing, nor had he understood.

Animals had always been drawn to him. It was one of the reasons why he had always hated hunting, especially when it was just for fun. He knew animals were drawn to him for some reason, that they were always docile around him – _‘magical beasts bent on ripping Arthur to shreds aside,’_ – and the thought that they met their end just because _he_ was there had always made the bile burn his throat.

It was rare that he had any problems dealing with animals. He had gotten more than one laugh at the gapping faces he received when reducing some of Arthur’s prized war-horses to nothing more than simpering foals pinning for attention. The animals were never so accommodating to anyone else. It was really no surprise that he was always stuck with stable-duty or looking after the horses.

Now he knew that animals were drawn to him because of the earth magic that was so natural to him; the ability to communicate through magic with animals. Without even trying, he had been taming the creatures around him, speaking to them on a level that let them know he was not a threat to them. He had always spoken to them, and somehow they had always listened.

The class itself he had loved. Learning how to fine-tune and understand a type of magic that felt so natural to him had been wonderful. He had taken to every spell he was taught like a fish to water, but he had found himself asking questions that had made his classmates stare at him. Clearly he had been asking about things he was already supposed to know. His complete lack of proper understanding coupled with his ease in casting had made him a focal point for many stares throughout the class, and all the attention had made him uncomfortable.

 _‘That went well today,’_ commented Aithusa as they shuffled out the door.

_‘Yes, it did.’_

_‘So, are you going to go back to Eldert and ask for an apprenticeship now?’_ she asked as they started walking down the avenue leading away from Prana House.

_‘No,’_

_‘Why not? You didn’t have any problems with any of the spells today. You performed them all perfectly.’_

_‘I know. But I also didn’t really understand what I was doing. I was just doing it. I think I’d be better served if I attended at least a few more classes, just to fill out my knowledge of this type of magic. Maybe once I’ve done that, I’ll go back to Eldert, or just talk to the Professor.’_

Aithusa readjusted her position on his shoulder, stretching out to get more comfortable. _‘I don’t think you need to wait that long,’_ she said after settling again.

He was saved from answering by someone hailing him from back towards Prana House. He turned to find one of the people from the class running towards him, puffing for breath. He was a short man with a round, boyish face and deep ebony eyes. He could tell the man was several years younger than him as he pulled up short just an arms-length from him, fidgeting in excitement, his eyes flicking from him to Aithusa and back again.

He began to fidget uncomfortably as the seconds ticked by without the other man saying anything. “Is there something I can help you with?” he asked when he couldn’t take the awkwardness any longer.

The younger man looked confused for a moment before flushing in embarrassment and dropping his eyes. Apparently he hadn’t realised he was staring.

“Oh! Sorry, it’s just,” stuttered the younger man before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. When next he opened them, he held out his hand for him to shake, a hopeful look in his face. “Hi. My name’s Aberthol.”

He hesitantly reached forward and shook the man’s hand, a faint smile gracing his face at the flustered man before him. “I’m Merlin,” he said. “And this is Aithusa. It’s nice to meet you.”

Aberthol beamed at him, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “I saw you in class today,” he said. “You’ve never had any training in Prana earth magic before, have you?”

“No,” he said, shifting uncomfortably again, one hand going unconsciously to finger the fabric tied around his wrist. “I lived in Camelot for a number of years. I didn’t have many opportunities to properly study magic. Is it really that obvious that I don’t know what I’m doing?” he asked a little ruefully.

Aberthol looked horrified at the implication of his question. “No! Well, yes, but, no wait…it’s just that you were really good in class and it didn’t seem like you had any formal training…”

 _‘Clearly someone didn’t think this conversation through before he stopped us,’_ said Aithusa in his mind. He fought really hard not to burst out laughing.

“…I guess I just…wanted to know how you were able to bond so strongly with a dragon,” continued Aberthol as he rambled to a halt looking a little sheepish.

He considered his response carefully before he gave it. “I don’t think my bond with Aithusa is because of magic I wasn’t even aware I was using,” he said. “…I bonded with her because…I’m a dragon lord.”

An awed look came over Aberthol’s face. “Oh! That’s amazing! I thought they were all gone. Well, I guess that explains that then,”

Suddenly feeling a deep ache in his chest, he wanted to be moving on. “Well, if that’s all you wanted to know,” he said, trailing off as he moved to leave.

Aberthol however, looked a little frantic as he jumped forward. “I’m sorry if I upset you,” he said in a rush. “I meat…it’s just…well, you’re not from here,”

He cocked his head as the examined the younger man. Aithusa sat up on his shoulder to watch him too. Abethol turned beet red when she did.

“…What are you trying to say?” he asked, not unkindly.

“…I’ve never met anyone from outside Vartee before…” said Aberthol in a near-whisper.

He started at the pleading tone the younger man spoke in. “Well now you have,” he said, flashing his signature impish grin.


	44. Not Unnoticed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Well, here we are again. Long time no see I guess you guys. This one took longer than I thought it would, mostly because I thought I would be able to get through more scenes here than I seemed to be able to. At least with the world the way it is right now I’ve got lots of free time now…  
> Anyways, I’ll stop talking and let you guys enjoy. Let me know what you think!

Arthur felt his – _‘no,_ Merlin’s _’_ – sword like a lead weight dragging him down as they rode out the next morning. He had stayed in that clearing starring at it long after Gwaine left him, unable to deny the truth. He was not worthy of it.

If he was any less exhausted, he might have been angry with the man. His jaw was still sore following their “chat”, and the others had not failed to notice the bruising. Hoping to avoid any questions, he told them it was from a bad fall that morning. Elyan looked at him as if he had grown a second head when he did, but he mercifully kept his silence.

The journey was long and silent, without any break from his rioting thoughts. By the time they reached the crest of the last hill he had still not been able to sort through his mixed feelings. The gleaming white walls of Camelot painted a sun-kissed red in the fading light. Facing the harsh walls and imposing towers of the citadel made him wonder. _‘What does this city really mean? What did it mean to you Merlin?’_

He didn’t know the answer, and it was painful to admit that to himself.

_‘…I just didn’t fit in anymore…I wanted to find somewhere that I did…Had any luck?...I’m not sure yet…’_

If Merlin had ever been sure, he wasn’t likely to find out now.

* * *

Percival watched Arthur closely the whole day. There seemed to be many things bothering him. Merlin’s disappearance was only the tip of the barbed arrowhead. Like the real thing, it was going to cause more damage to pull the blasted thing out than it had going in.

Somewhere along their way, he realised he was able to come up with an explanation for what was happening. But at the same time, it was an impossible idea. Though this was Camelot, and they lived everyday with “impossible”. And he couldn’t come up with any other explanation. He could be wrong, so for the time being he would keep it to himself. If he was wrong, he didn’t want anybody to learn of his suspicions.

When Camelot finally came into view, the sun was beginning to set, making the city even more striking than usual. Arthur surprised him when his only reaction was to look more haunted. Usually the king let go of the residual tension he always held while questing once the city came back into view. This time, he did the opposite.

They rode through the gates of the outer wall, the guards hailing them as they went. One of them took off for the citadel to inform the Queen of their return. The others watched them pass with confusion in their eyes. He realized they knew there was someone missing when he saw them scan the group in surprise. Pushing on into the lower town they found the extraordinary transcendence of gossip spreading before them. More than a few searching eyes roved over their group as they passed. It seemed there would be no secrets today.

* * *

Gwen sat at the head of the dinning table in the room she shared with Arthur, gazing blankly out the window. The clouds looked a blushing rose-gold in the fading light. Sefa, her new maid, puttered around the room cleaning and arranging things. While shy, the girl had been a godsend. She had never been around royalty before, so she wasn’t very well-versed in how a “proper” servant should act. She wasn’t an emotionless bootlicker, so she had been able to engage her in real conversations.

“Are you not hungry tonight my Lady?” asked Sefa sometime latter, brining her out of her brooding thoughts.

She jumped, looking down at the untouched plate of food in front of her. She had completely forgotten it existed. “I guess not,” she muttered, twisting her fingers in her lap.

“Is there something the matter?” asked Sefa.

“No, I’m fine. But thank you for asking.”

Sefa shuffled up next to her, looking uncertain. “Are you worried for the King my Lady?” she asked.

She looked up from her lap.

“I heard the other servants talking about how restless the council is with his absence…” said Sefa.

 _‘God bless this sweet girl,’_ she couldn’t help but think.

Sefa was a kind, compassionate person. She thought they could grow to be something like friends. But the girl’s kindness was also a knife to her heart sometimes. It reminded her of the real reason for her worry too sharply.

“I’m always worried about him,” she muttered after a moment.

“I’m sure the King will return soon,” soothed Sefa as she moved to clear the table.

She forestalled the girl with a hand before asking, “Will you sit with me?”

“My Lady?”

“Here,” she said as she passed over the plateful of food. “There’s no sense in it going to waste because I’ve lost my appetite.”

Sefa gazed at her for a long moment before tentatively starting to eat.

Before anything else could happen, a loud knock sounded on the chamber door. Sefa moved to answer it, but she stopped her with another gentle hand. “It’s fine, I’ve got it. You sit there and eat.” Sefa gave her another shy smile of gratitude.

When she opened the door, it was to find a guard on the other side, who dropped into a deep bow upon seeing her. “My Lady, I was sent from the city’s main gate. His Majesty the King and his Knights have returned from the hunt.”

A powerful fluttering rose in her chest while she clutched the handle for support. Her knuckles turned white from the force of her grip. Hidden as they were behind the door, the guard did not notice.

 _‘Arthur’s come back, maybe – ’_ She didn’t want to finish the thought until she knew for sure. Her hand left the door handle and strayed to her pocket where she kept Merlin’s letter to Gaius.

“Thank you,” she said while trying to cover her rush of emotions.

The guard tipped an imaginary hat to her with a faint _“My Lady,”_ before walking off down the hall. She called back to Sefa that she could have the rest of the evening off when she finished eating, then dashed off down the hall.

Now that she was Queen, she couldn’t take off running down the corridors like the devil himself was hot on her heels. She would only cause a panic that way. That said, she hurried as fast as she dared to the courtyard, hoping to catch Arthur when he arrived. Hoping that her lost friend had been found.

She reached the top of the stairs descending into the square as the “hunting” party rode in through the gate. A quick scan of their numbers told her all she needed to know; they had not found Merlin.

While she had expected it, she found herself unprepared for the crushing sense of despair that assaulted her. They hadn’t found him. Her friend was still hiding somewhere out there, believing they all hated him for who he was. He believed they hated magic, and if Gaius had made one thing clear to her in the past week, it was that Merlin _was_ magic. She fought against the stinging in her eyes while making her way quickly to Arthur’s side.

* * *

Gwaine couldn’t help but notice the many funny looks their party was getting. He handed off the reigns of his horse to the closest confused stable boy before glancing around. Hushed muttering rippled out from them in waves. It seemed that everyone had noticed the distinct lack of a certain someone. The absence more apparent because of the despondent air of the king.

 _‘The rumour mills will have plenty of fodder for the coming weeks,’_ he thought. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. It could well turn out to be a bad thing in the long run.

Gwen appeared at the top of the stairs when they rode in. Her face looked hopeful as she scanned them, but fell upon registering their numbers. She made her way to Arthur, gripping him in an embrace too tight even for a wife relieved at her husbands safe return.

He couldn’t make out the words of the quiet argument that erupted between the two royals when they broke apart, but he already knew without asking what was going on.

* * *

“We need to tell them something,” insisted Gwen as she pulled back form Arthur’s embrace.

He started shaking his head to deny her even as she moved to build her argument. “Look around you Arthur,” she said forcefully. “Everyone in this courtyard right now knowns someone is missing. Now that you are back, we can no longer keep this a secret between us.”

“It’s not our secret to tell Guinevere,” said Arthur in a deadened voice.

She bit her lip at his tone. It was like he was begging her. Asking her to not force him to do this, to not betray what little of his friends trust might still remain.

“We don’t have to tell everyone,” she said. “But the others deserve to know. If we don’t tell them, they’ll start asking awkward questions. And it’ll look suspicious to the rest if the knights closest to him don’t know anything about where he has gone.”

It was some minutes before he conceded her point. If they wanted to curb the rumours that were no doubt already starting, they needed to tell the knights.

* * *

Arthur clung to Gwen when she appeared at his side, loosing himself in her familiar scent and comforting presence. She hugged him just as fiercely back. In that moment, he wanted to collapse from the strain of it all. She was the only thing managing to hold him up.

Then she pulled away and said the very thing he dreaded; he needed to explain to the knights what had happened. Without even thinking he started to shake his head. He couldn’t tell the knights, and not because he was ashamed of his own actions. No, it was about more than that. If he told the knights, he would be revealing what had to be Merlin’s deepest secret. He would have to betray Merlin’s trust, if he even had any left to betray.

Gwen pointed out that it would look suspicious if nobody else with him knew what had become of Merlin. His closest knights were his friends. It would appear strange if they seemed to know nothing.

He couldn’t send out search parties, they would do no good. Merlin was hidden away somewhere, he was sure. To send knights out to hunt him down would only push him further away.

People who knew them would wonder where Merlin had gone, and question why the knights seemed to know nothing. Rumours would spread, and as much as he didn’t want to betray Merlin’s trust, even less did he want to tarnish his memory. He walked in a daze as Gwen led him towards his chambers, sending a servant to collect Gaius and the knights.


	45. Pestle Problems

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, this is the last chapter of the ones I had pre-written before moving everything here from fanfiction.net. The general rule for new chapters is once every two weeks-ish. I try to keep to that as much as possible. Anyways, enjoy!

Gaius stood at one of his many work tables grinding herbs with a mortar and pestle. The motions were so familiar, so natural by this point in his life that he didn’t even have to think about what he was doing. Unfortunately for him, that meant his mind was free to consider other things.

Arthur and the knights had been gone a long time, and the old council was becoming restless in their absence. It was only supposed to have been a hunting trip after all.

He was pleasantly surprised with Gwen’s ability to hold them at bay so far. But her success couldn’t last forever. Many of Uther’s oldest council members did not respect her authority, the servant-turned-Queen. If Arthur was gone for much longer, they would overrule her in a frantic search for the king.

But Gwen’s growing trouble with the council was not the only thing on his mind. Merlin was out there somewhere, hidden from sight, believing the others all hated him. He had not received any contact from his boy since the one letter reassuring him that he was alright. He had half a mind to ask Gwen for it back. That letter would likely be Merlin’s last contact point with them for a long time. Gwen knew that as well as he did, which was why he was certain she had kept it. It was also why he was contemplating asking for it back.

So lost in thought was he that he didn’t realise missing the mortar entirely and began grinding his pestle into the table instead of his herbs.

Merlin hadn’t been gone for long, but it felt like it had already been ages. He had often despaired of how blind the others, especially Arthur seemed to be to how much Merlin did for them. On more than one occasion, he had grown indignant on his boys behalf. The memory of that burned like a hot coal in his stomach now. Over the course of the last week he had realised that he was as guilty as the rest of them. In fact, he was _worse_. Out of them all, he should’ve known better.

This past week his usual work had felt a much heavier burden than it had before. He hadn’t realised how much Merlin had started doing for him as the years passed, especially since his incarceration during Morgana’s latest takeover. Merlin had started to make and deliver a lot of remedies himself in the past few months. He hadn’t realised. He _should_ have, but he hadn’t. Now his workload seemed to have quadrupled overnight leaving his joints aching and his breaths heaving by the end of each day.

The sound of splintering wood filled the air as he slammed his pestle down and twisted. He stared in wonder at the ruined tabletop for a moment before knocking on his door drew his attention.

* * *

Gwen was very worried about Arthur. He had his sword and belt in his hand, and didn’t look up from it the entire way to their chambers. He kept running his thumb over the pummel and cross guard. She didn’t know what to make of it.

Fighting the urge to seize the sword and hurl it away so she didn’t have to see the lost look in his eyes, she ushered him into their room and closed the door behind them. A glance to their cleared table told her that Sefa had finished eating and was gone for the night. Arthur stood exactly where she left him, gazing at the glittering hilt in the flickering light.

“Arthur?” she called, “What is it? Why are you looking at your sword like that?”

He turned dead eyes to her. “Do you know what this is?” he asked, gesturing to the blade.

She couldn’t honestly say she knew what he was asking her.

* * *

Arthur saw Gwen’s confusion at his random question and moved to explain. At least, he did his best to. “Did he tell you the same story he told me about this?”

Gwen’s brow furrowed as she thought about it. “Is that the sword you pulled from the stone?”

“Yes.”

Of course it was _that_ blade. Ever since he pulled the thing from that stone, it had been like he was _allergic_ to any other sword. Since wielding it, no other had been good enough. He had always had his own personal sword. He actually had several all to himself, and made a point of using each of them on occasion. It was part and parcel of his training, to use less familiar blades. If he ever lost his own in the middle of a fight, it was less of a problem to pick up another to defend himself. Ever since touching the hilt of this sword though, that had changed. Even his old blades felt alien in his hand now. No other blade had ever felt so at home in his hand. And no other blade had ever made all others feel so much like crude chunks of blunted metal.

“He said something about only a true king of Camelot being able to pull it from the stone. He didn’t explain much, but I heard the story he told the people and the knights. Everyone did,” said Gwen.

He nodded absently while drawing the blade to examine it in the firelight. “Do you know what the runes on this mean?” he asked.

Gwen shook her head. “I’ve never thought to ask.”

“I did,” he said, “Once Gaius recovered. I took it to him to ask about both that and the story Merlin had come out with. He told me that on one side it says ‘take me up’, and on the other ‘cast me away’. He didn’t say much about Merlin’s story though.”

A look of understanding came over Gwen’s face. “That does sound like something he might say.” A loud knock on the door forestalled them from discussing the blade any further.

* * *

Gaius made his way to the royal chambers fighting valiantly with his emotions. He knew better than to hope Merlin had returned. Too many times in his life had he sat waiting for good news only to receive none. Despite that, he somehow still couldn’t banish the tiny spark of hope in his heart. Even though he knew it would only hurt worse when the inevitable happened.

He reached the door of the royal couples’ chambers at the same time as the knights. He felt gutted when he saw their weary faces. Leon and Elyan looked grim. Gwaine was radiating with barely controlled fury, though it wasn’t directed at anyone in the hall. Percival’s face was as inscrutable as ever while he observed the rest. They all looked at him apologetically before turning to knock on the door.

* * *

Arthur startled out of his ruminations at the knock on the door. That had to be the knights and Gaius. He vaguely recalled Gwen sending off a servant to fetch them. Gwen sent him a reassuring glance while moving to let everyone in, causing panic to coil itself inside his chest. He may have agreed to talk to them, but that didn’t mean he had figured out what to say.

Gwen ushered them all to the table. Somehow, he found himself seated at the head with Gwen on his left and an empty seat on his right. Gwaine took the seat opposite him, glaring daggers all the while. Leon, Gaius, Elyan and Percival filled in the rest of the seats.

His scalp began to prickle from sweat as he continued to wrestle with the dilemma of what, and how much to tell them. A great sense of relief, along with a renewal of his guilt came as Gaius was the first to break the silence. “You didn’t find him.”

It was a statement, not a question. _‘If we had found him, we wouldn’t be having this meeting. At least not now.’_

When no response came, Gaius continued, looking older than he had ever seen him. “I guessed as much,” he said softly, almost to himself.

Elyan looked questioningly at him. A flicker of something once familiar, but now long forgotten ran through his mind. He couldn’t spare the energy to figure out what it was though.

“You guessed?” questioned Elyan, somewhat surprised. “Did you know we wouldn’t find him?”

 _‘It wouldn’t surprise me if he did._ ’ Gaius had always known about Merlin’s magic. If there was anyone among them who knew what Merlin was capable of, it would be Gaius. With the amount of power Gaius had said he had, Merlin would be able to stay hidden if he wanted to.

“A few days after you left to find Merlin, I received a letter from him, letting me know he was alright,” mumbled Gaius.

Everyone at the table but Gwen gapped at him. Merlin had sent a letter? Captors holding him against his will wouldn’t have allowed him to do such a thing. So that meant that wherever he was, he was there willingly. Merlin wasn't kidnapped, he really was gone.

He balled his hands into fits below the table to stop them from shaking. Gwen gave his knee a gentle squeeze when she noticed. _‘He sent a letter…he’s not in danger. He is out there somewhere, hiding…hiding from me…from my wrath.’_ He wasn’t as different from his father as he liked to tell himself after all.

“Are you certain it was actually from Merlin?” asked Leon, ever the pragmatist.

“I can recognize my own wards handwriting when I see it,” groused Gaius.

Leon nodded. “Yes, of course. I wanted to be sure.”

“What exactly did this letter say?” he asked, speaking for the first time since sitting down.

Everyone turned to him, Gwaine once again shooting him a death glare across the table. Gaius scrutinized him for a moment before answering. He sounded like he was considering each word carefully before he spoke.

“It did not say much,” said Gaius slowly, “He apologized for worrying us all by disappearing without explanation, and reassured me that he was somewhere safe.”

Gwen opened her mouth as if to say something, but Gaius cut across her. “It was more an apology than anything else. He did not explain what had happened.”

Gaius’ infamous eyebrow rose as he gazed steadily at Gwen. He felt her tense beside him, not liking the silent warning to stay quiet about the lie being told. Witnessing the exchange, oddly enough, allowed a kind of calm to settle over him. If Gaius, wo had always known about the magic wasn’t going to say anything about it to everyone, then neither would he. _‘It is none of our place to reveal Merlin’s secret.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Oh boy, for some reason, this whole chapter was like pulling teeth. I had a lot of trouble with it. At least I landed on something I like, so there’s that. Let me know what you guys think. I felt like it needed to be longer than this, but then I got to the last bit and was like “that feels like a good place to end.”


	46. I Don't Get It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this update came so late after the last one, I hit a brick wall with the story and had no idea where I was supposed to go with it after the last chapter. But all's well and ends well now, so here's the update.
> 
> After this we'll be going back to Merlin having the time of his life in Vartee, so that should be fun. Enjoy!

Elyan was not any less confused now than he had been all day. If Merlin wasn’t in any danger, he couldn’t understand why they had wasted all that time looking for him. They may not have known that their help wasn’t needed when they set out, but that was exactly why he was confused. Merlin had disappeared without warning before and they had never done anything to search for him then.

For some reason, Arthur had immediately assumed someone had kidnapped Merlin before wrangling them into helping search for him.

“I don’t understand,” he said when Gaius finished speaking. “Why did we go after Merlin if he wasn’t in danger?”

“The evidence pointed to him having been kidnapped,” stated Arthur.

He frowned at the king. “What evidence? That no one knew where he had gone? He’s done that before and you’ve never reacted like this.”

Gwen was staring fixedly at Arthur, who was determinedly avoiding her gaze. Gaius looked uncomfortable. He saw Gwaine glare at Arthur, waiting for an answer.

Arthur took his time before he spoke. “We…had…an argument…I was furious with him. When I cooled off and went to find him, he had disappeared.”

Gwaine whistled with sing-song mockery. “Must have been _some_ argument Princess,” drawled the rouge, picking at his fingernails. “I can’t help but wonder what it is you did to him.”

He heard the dangerous edge of anger in Gwaine’s voice, pointedly at odds with his relaxed posture.

He couldn’t help but wonder what the argument had been about. Merlin was forever getting under Arthur’s skin. It was a talent of his. But Merlin’s every action was tempered by his loyalty. He knew the younger man _did_ respect Arthur, no matter how it may sometimes look. Even when he was ribbing the king, it was part of him showing his friendship. They all knew that if Merlin gave Arthur a compliment, he meant it. The ribbing was also Merlin’s way of keeping Arthur’s head from getting too big so he was better able to remember his people. The idea that _Merlin_ would be the one to cause a falling out was laughable. But that also meant that Arthur would’ve had to do something _really_ bad to make Merlin leave. He couldn’t have managed that easily.

Arthur’s jaw clenched and he shot Gwaine a warning look. Gwiane ignored him, continuing to examine his fingers thoughtfully.

“That’s none of your business,” snapped the king. “The point is he wouldn’t have run off without saying something to someone.”

Gwaine hummed, flicking his eyes towards the still tense king.

“Where does this leave us?” asked Leon, the next to break in. “If we allow that Merlin did not leave of his own volition, then someone still has to have taken him.”

“We already know this,” cut in Gwaine, sounding serious again. “The Varteesians took him.”

“But why? What purpose were they serving by it?” he asked.

If the world started making any less sense, his brain was going to implode. Merlin had not left on his own, but the people who kidnapped him had just let him go? Or had he escaped on his own? But if that was the case, why would he send them a letter rather than coming home? _‘Why is nothing ever simple with that man? I’ve never met anyone so convoluted in my life.’_

Gwaine splayed his palms out placatingly to them. “The Varteesians didn’t take him just for the sake of it. They took him to help him.”

“And you know this how?” demanded Arthur incredulously.

Gwaine fixed his eyes on the king, mouth twitching slightly as if he wanted to smile, or sneer. “I happened to come across another Varteesian in that village we stopped at. The ones from here talked to them and asked them to contact home and ask for help. Apparently Merlin had some kind of magical sickness. _That_ was why they took him. They needed magic to heal him, and they couldn’t very well do anything in Camelot.”

Gaius suddenly sucked in a sharp breath, clutching his chest. Everyone stared at him in concern.

“Gaius? What’s wrong?” prodded Gwen at his startled exclamation.

Gaius’ eyes were glistening in a way he had never seen before. He wondered if the old man was about to start balling his eyes out in front of them. The thought floated to the front of his mind even as he disregarded it. Gaius was their stalwart support, ever calm. He didn’t want to know what it meant if the old man was loosing his control now. _‘Maybe he’s just worried about Merlin being ill and not being able to help him himself,’_

“How did he get a magical sickness?” wondered Leon aloud. “He was completely fine earlier that very day.”

None of it made any sense. How had Merlin gotten sick? How did these Varteesians learn about it and why did they decide to help him? He thought he knew why they hadn’t said anything. If Merlin really had a magical illness, they wouldn’t have been very forthcoming about knowledge of that in Camelot. It would have been easy enough to accuse them of cursing him. He wondered why Gwaine hadn’t shared this information before now. By the look Arthur was giving Gwaine, he was thinking the same thing.

“And your only sharing this with us _now_!?” demanded the king.

Gwaine gazed steadily across the table. He leaned back to get out of the way of the two men’s ferocity. He was starting to get the feeling that he was missing something important.

“Didn’t see how it was going to make a difference when the evil sorcerers still took him.”

It was a statement posed almost like a challenge. Arthur’s reaction wasn’t what he expected. His training under Uther allowed him to keep most of his true feelings under wraps in situations like these. That didn’t mean you wouldn’t be able to tell what he was thinking if you knew him well enough. He saw Arthur tense, and something like guilt flicker through his eyes before the king-mask managed to cover it. _‘Why would Arthur be feeling guilty?’_

“You should not have kept information pertaining to our quest to yourself. I would have gone about things differently had I known this earlier,” said Arthur.

Gwaine raised an eyebrow. “Would you really? They’re sorcerers, and we all know there’s only one way to deal with magicians.”

A long silence greeted them before Leon cleared his throat loudly. “If this is true, Merlin will likely return on his own when he recovers.”

“No.” The entire table startled at Percival’s forceful tone.

Gwiane’s face was unreadable. He saw Gwen bite her lip nervously. She seemed to agree with Percival’s statement. Gaius’ physicians mask cracked around his too-bright eyes. Arthur was still as a statue, trying his hardest not to show them any emotion. Leon looked just as confused as he was.

Of course Merlin would come back when he was better, he was beyond loyal. The thought of him _not_ returning to the city was ridiculous. And yet it looked like only he and Leon shared that view.

“ ‘ _No_ ’? You think Merlin won’t come back?” questioned Leon, completely out of his depth.

“Magic is not evil, as the law says,” was Percival’s only response.

* * *

Hours latter Leon lay awake in bed, gazing out at the shinning moon. He couldn’t understand how so many of the others seemed to believe that Merlin was fine, and wasn’t coming back.

Out of all the other knights, he had known Merlin the longest. He was the only one of them who had been there through the formative years of Merlin and Arthur’s friendship. He knew how loyal Merlin was, and how he would do anything to protect the people he cared for. The concept of him not returning was unfathomable. Yet Gaius didn’t seem to share that view.

Merlin was a friendly person, but he was also very private. As much as he was always chattering away, he didn’t often say much. The only way he had ever found to get Merlin to really talk was to have a genuine conversation while alone with him. Everyone knew Merlin, but he believed Gaius was the only one who _knew_ him. And now Gaius seemed to think he wasn’t coming back, that he had left because of some fight with Arthur.

These Varteesian’s healed him from some obscure sickness with magic, when he was a stranger to them living in the kingdom most well-known for it’s hatred of magic. If magic could heal, it wasn’t all evil. Uther’s harsh stance on the law against magic had never sat well with Merlin. If Uther had been wrong, he wouldn’t let it go. But that alone wouldn’t be enough of a reason for Merlin to stay away. It would make more sense for such an experience to prompt the younger man to return and try his hardest to get Arthur to change the law. He would use his own experience as his proof that not all magic was bad. But that wasn’t what was going on.

He couldn’t fathom what disagreement between Arthur and Merlin could have driven the younger man away, but it had to have been something serious.


End file.
